


Energy

by Krystchambers



Category: Original Work
Genre: College, Gen, Mad Scientists, Psychic Abilities, strong independent woman who don't need no man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 94,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23272768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krystchambers/pseuds/Krystchambers
Summary: It feels like her whole life that Katie has wanted to attend the Institute for Paranormal Science, but in reality it was only recently discovered that every living person had an inherent potential to learn and develop a variety of psychic powers. Once her dream came true, however, the college wasn't anything like she expected.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character





	1. 101- Orientation

**101 - Orientation**

****

"I cannot believe they let that woman teach." Katie muttered tiredly, dropping a stack of books down on a library table already strewn with piles of books. She didn't have the energy for a real tangent, she was just too drained with dread for her next class. ‘Doctor’ Hammond wasn’t just boring. Boring she could handle. Hammond was…well…stubbornly ignorant. “Woman couldn’t think her way out of a wet paper bag…” Katie mumbled.

Joanne hopped onto the table, sitting herself right beside her best friend’s stack of books. "Atta girl, let it out," Joanne said cheerfully, swinging her legs back and forth and grinning at Katie’s lack of enthusiasm.

Katie sighed, sinking into the chair beside Joanne's feet. "Not all of us can be fiery redheads."

Joanne smirked, tossing her curly red hair over one shoulder. "I'd settle for you being a lukewarm brunette," she retorted. "Or in the very least a slightly-less-neurotic-and-stressed-out dark brown." She said, poking at the dark brown bun twisted up onto the top of Katie’s head. Despite the humor in her tone she was eyeballing Katie's pile of books with genuine concern. She'd always had a habit of using books to avoid reality, and there were an awful lot of them sitting there. Not a one had anything to do with her next class, Introduction to Paranormal Psychic Theory. Katie had read that textbook cover to cover her first day here, and the class turned out to be just as mindnumbingly boring.

Katie narrowed her eyes. "You know, it's a good thing you're not _irritating_ or anything, or else I might be tempted to hold you down and turn you into a mind-your-own-business blonde."

Joanne gasped. "You wouldn't dare!" she cried.

"Watch me!"

They could hear Miss Bishop, the librarian, trying to shush them before she was drowned out by high pitched giggling coming from the front doors. Their table wasn't too far away, since Katie liked to be near the computers, but they were shocked to see a group of Kinetics, Myst, Anne, and Isobel, coming through the door.

Now, it's not like Katie spent a lot of time observing vapid trust-fund babies, but she _did_ have perfect recall, and none of these girls had ever been this obnoxiously appealing before.

Myst, an Elekinetic, looked the most normal of the three - almost bland with her brown eyes and plain, straight brown hair that reached her waist. The oddest thing about her (save her strangely blank stare,) was the dewy hue to her skin. She noticed a similar sheen to Anne's when she entered after her, and if Katie had to guess, she'd say this was Myst's contribution to the group aesthetic.

Depending on whether you counted her hair as a separate entity, Anne was either the second or third member of the group. She was a Telekinetic, an heiress, and a black girl, with skin the color of dark chocolate. And even though she was the shortest of the three, she had so much hair - which she almost always styled into huge and varied puffs placed oddly around her head - that she tended to seem much taller than her friends. It was bigger than ever today, unrealistically so. In a defy-the-laws-of-physics sort of way. Katie was surprised she was even able to fit through the door with her hair so big. Though it may have helped that she was literally walking sideways, paying more attention to what was behind her than where she was going.

"And this is the library," Katie heard Isobel before she saw her, dragging someone along with her by their elbow. "Where you can find books, mold, and if you're quiet enough that you don't startle them too much, _nerds_."

Oh, Isobel...How is it that with two so unique friends, someone so painfully mainstream still managed to annoyingly demand the attention of everyone in a three-mile-radius. Maybe it was the overwhelming artifice of it all. Her eyes were an unnatural blue, her hair an unnatural blonde streaked with what she called 'Holo-highlights', which glowed multiple colors when they caught the light.

Perfect makeup, perfectly white and even teeth, manicured nails, clothes, jewelry, accessories, ugh!! Every time Katie saw people like her she couldn't help but wonder exactly how much time, effort, and money went into maintaining something so superficial.

And now these insipid twits were supplementing their vanity with psychic powers of all things. Isobel was a telekinetic like Anne, but she was clearly more talented. Her gimmick was the easiest to spot: she'd given her hair a subtle, ethereal floating quality, almost like she was underwater. It had to take concentration, but somehow Isobel's entire focus seemed trained on their guest.

It was surprising to see them because the three of them, much like all of the school's Kinetics, were notorious for avoiding the library at all costs. All they cared about was the physical applications of their abilities, books didn't matter to them. (This was perfectly fine by Katie, of course. Elementals, particularly ones like Myst who liked playing with fire best of all, made her _real_ nervous when they were in close proximity to her beloved books.)

But the mystery dissolved the moment she caught sight of their guest. Finally entering the library beside Isobel was what must be a new student, and it was suddenly readily apparent what could draw a group of Kinetics to the library.

Without looking at her, Joanne nudged Katie in the side with her foot, who in turn elbowed her in the knee. Apparently, they were in agreement.

Easily the hottest guy they'd ever seen in their lives.

His eyes were a bright, natural blue, in stark contrast with the deep tan of his skin. He was half a head taller than any of the girls, and lithe, but absolutely cut, with black hair long enough to fall and mask his eyes.

Was this an ex-boyfriend of Isobel's? His haircut was trendy, just the kind she might pressure someone to get, but it wasn't maintained and was starting to grow out. Not to mention at least three days worth of stubble, which Isobel would never tolerate, (it might scuff the protective coat on her makeup.) His clothes were very nice, but plain, as though someone had taken him shopping for her favorite designers, and he picked the simplest pieces he could find. They were also, shockingly, stained with oil. Like he wore them to work on a car, of all things. And despite the quiet air of pridefullness, something Katie noticed in common among most of the wealthier students here, he seemed to be doing his best to hold himself apart from the three Kinetics.

Joanne whimpered.

"So this is where we can go to study?"

Isobel laughed. "Oh, don't be silly!" She giggled, slapping him on the shoulder playfully. "This place is for geeks like the diviners and the telepaths. Or the _really_ unfortunate..." she said as she caught sight of Katie and Joanne, who were (regrettably) still ogling the new guy. "...the general class." she finished, grinning spitefully. The new guy turned to see who she was looking at, facing their table with a confused expression.

Katie glanced over at Joanne, fully expecting a retort from her best friend, but was stunned to see her speechless. Joanne had many modes, but none of them was anything like _speechless_.

Could she be nervous? Did she even know _how_ to be nervous? Well, she was staring at the new guy with the closest thing to nervousness Katie had ever seen on her face.

Suddenly, Katie's own anxiety was tucked away. Still there, like it always was, but not important. Because right now her friend was freaking and she had some snark to deliver in her place.

"Wow, Isobel, you're so _witty_ today!" she said with a bright smile. She could see the stranger's lip twitch, but he managed to keep a straight face. "Did the cafe get a new shipment of kitten souls and baby tears? Because you are on your _game_!" The sarcasm came easily, naturally actually. She's almost forgotten how funny she could be when she wasn't paralyzed with fear.

Isobel sneered at her. " _Charity_ here-"

"Charity?" The guy raised an eyebrow.

"It's Katie," she corrected her sharply, her fake grin fading quickly with her irritation.

"Oh, right, I'm sorry." Isobel said, not sounding in the least bit sorry. "I'd forgotten, everyone only calls her Charity because she's here on a _scholarship_." Her face morphed into a pathetic attempt at pity, as though a scholarship is something to be ashamed of. "Anyway, Katie here is part of the general class. That's the class we have here at IPS for people who don't test into any proficiencies," she said, lowering her voice to a harsh whisper.

Katie rolled her eyes. "Yes, lucky for Isobel, psychic proficiencies don't require intellectual abilities beyond that of a retarded _duck_."

Isobel curled her lip. "Um, yeah, okay, did you just call me a _duck_?" She scoffed.

"No," Katie said. "But thank you for making my point for me."

"Come _on_ , Isobel," Anne whined, interrupting their banter. "Just being in here is giving me a migraine."

"That's funny, you being in here is having the same effect on me. Weird right?" Katie grinned.

Anne ignored her. "You know I can't handle dust," she muttered sullenly to Isobel.

Isobel squared her shoulders, turning away from Katie . "It's fine, Anne. There's nothing else interesting in here anyway. Come on, let's show our friend the Kinetics' advanced training ground."

The three girls started walking back toward the entrance, but their 'friend' didn't immediately follow. He was staring at Katie with the strangest expression. "I'm Drew," he said abruptly.

Katie's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but she shrugged one of her shoulders. "Katie," she answered simply. "And this is Joanne. Welcome to IPS."

"Drew, come on," Isobel called from the doorway, frowning.

Drew's eyes flicked toward her, and back to Katie. "Nice to meet you," he said, before turning to go.

For nearly a minute after the four of them had left the building, Katie and Joanne were silent.

Joanne broke the silence with another, slightly strangled, whimper. Katie's head dropped onto the desk and she groaned.

"Ugh, I feel so tense and stiff and creaky," Joanne complained, stretching. "Like the rusty Tin Man. Are you like this all the time? No wonder you're so skinny."

Katie lifted her head and frowned up at her friend. "Yeah, what happened to you back there? I have literally never seen you like that."

"I don't know!" Joanne said, her eyes wide. "He just seemed so intimidating. Didn't he seem intimidating to you?"

Katie shook her head. "Not really. He seemed nice." A little odd maybe, but nice. "Unless you count how intimidatingly, heartbreakingly attractive he was, physically," she added, smirking.

"Right??" Joanne almost choked on the word, "What even was that? Where did he come from?"

Katie looked thoughtful for a moment. "Greece, I think," she said finally, completely serious.

"Why, because he was clearly a Greek god?"

Katie laughed. "No, he had a bit of an accent, did you notice? And his features were Mediterranean."

"I wasn't expecting an actual answer." Joanne said blandly. "How do you always know these things?"

Katie shrugged. "I dunno. I guess I read it somewhere."

Joanne made a face. "See, that's a better superpower than ninety percent of the people here have, especially me, and where did they stick you?"

"The general class," they said in unison.

Katie glanced at her friend, her expression confused. "What do you mean 'especially you'?"

"I mean I'm an absolutely terrible empath, that's what I mean!" Joanne said, pouting.

"That's not true at all!" Katie said, tugging at her friends arm. "You always know when I'm anxious."

Joanne didn't even bother answering, instead just raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah, okay, so I’m always anxious," Katie admitted. "But you always know exactly how to make me feel better! That could be related to your empathic abilities," she reasoned

"Yeah, or it could just be that I know you so well," Joanne reasoned right back.

"Okay, fine." Katie held up her hands, admitting defeat. "But it's only been like a month. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. No one can master anything in a month. Well, except for me." She was trying to be funny, but one look at Joanne's face and she knew what the problem was. "Oh, no. There's a 'Me' in your class, isn't there?"

Joanne groaned, falling backward to lay across the table. "He's so annoying."

"Oh my god, you like him."

Her friend sat bolt upright. " No, I don't!" she squeaked, earning another shush from Miss Bishop, and convincing Katie she was right.

"Alright," Katie said, a little too placating, a tiny smile making it to her face.

"Oh, no," Joanne pointed to Katie accusingly. "Don't give me that face, _alright_?" She said the last work mockingly through her nose. "I do not, I repeat, do _not_ have a crush on- on... _Pompous Von Snotface_!"

Katie was fully grinning now. "Is that of the Chesterfield Von Snotfaces?"

"No it's not," Joanne said firmly. "He is a nobody Von Snotface who is also an obnoxious and charming and a know it all and a devilishly handsome mindreading jackass."

“Mindreader?” Katie raised an eyebrow, “You know that’s not a thing, right?”

“Well, tell _him_ that.” Joanne said, pouting. "The other empaths even goad him into it, like it's some kind of parkour trick."

"It probably really _is_ some kind of _parlor_ trick,"

"That's not a real word," Joanne chortled.

Katie ignored her. "They've done studies specifically about mind reading and proved it impossible. Each person's mind is too unique, like a fingerprint. It’s like each mind has its own language."

"No, but wait." Joanne frowned in confusion. "What about the people taking classes right now learning to speak to each other all silent and ninja-like?”

"You mean telepathy?”

“Yeah, actually, now that I think about it,” Joanne said, reaching behind her for her bag. “Hammond’s class is kicking my butt, and I was wondering if you could translate some of this for me.” She handed Katie her copy of Introduction to Paranormal Scientific Theory.

Katie smiled a took the book. “You know, we’d save a lot of time if I just wrote you a report for every textbook I read.” She opened the book to the introduction and froze. “Joanne…?” She squeaked, not taking her eyes off the page. “What did you _do_ to this?” She stared openmouthed at the textbook in her hands. The introduction page was covered not just in her best friend's girly handwriting, but some kind of light pink paint.

Joanne shrugged. "I knew you'd need room to write your translation, so I whited out the boring parts," she said, sounding like the very spirit of reason.

Katie felt like she was short circuiting. "Ok first of all," she stuttered, "All of this is important-"

"Disagree," Joanne cut in, crossing her arms.

"To me!" Katie added to clarify. "Secondly, white out hasn't been in production in years, this is clearly your nail polish!"

"Books deserve to feel pretty too, Katie!" Joanne's red curls, as well as a few other parts of her body, bounced as she stomped her foot gently against the chair her feet were propped on.

Katie dropped her head into her hands, giggling helpessly in spite of herself. “Ok, fine,” she said. “What parts am I translating?”

“Abilities,” Joanne answered promptly. “If Hammond keeps to form, and I mean, duh, of course she will,” Joanne rolled her eyes. “She’ll have a quiz on them today, and I don’t know what it is about this book, but I haven’t been able to retain _anything_.”

“That’s because it’s written like you’re learning vocabulary words.” Katie said drily. She reached into her bag for a pen. “Ok, so we’re talking about registered psychic abilities, right?” She started to scribble across the painted area on the page. “So you’ve got Kinetic abilities, those are your physical ones.”

“Right, and there’s Telekinesis, which means moving stuff with your mind, and Elekinesis means controlling the elements?” she ended as a question, unsure of her definition.

“Yes, except it’s important to remember that ‘element’ means literal elements, like the table of elements, not just fire and water,” Katie said as she continued to write.

“So could an elekinetic turn lead into gold?” Joanne asked playfully.

Katie, however, took the question seriously. “Yes, actually, if they were good enough that could turn anything to gold.” She paused in her writing. “Hypothetically!” Katie quickly added, concerned for the diabolical eagerness in her friend’s expression. “They’d have to be impossibly good, I don’t think an elekinetic like that even exists right now.” Katie sighed with relief when Joanne began to pout. “Anyway, it’s the non-physical abilities that are the most useful.”

“Like empathy? Joanne asked blandly, not like she was offering an answer, more like she doubted the validity of it.

“That’s one,” Katie said, pointedly ignoring her friend’s eyeroll. “Then there’s telepathy, pre- and retrocognition, divination and healing.”

“Healing is ESP?” Joanne asked, with genuine confusion.

“Well, not anymore, but according to this book and Hammond’s test, yes.” Katie said.

“Ok, here’s a question,” Joanne said, leaning over onto her elbow to invade Katie’s personal space. “Precognition is seeing the future, right?”

“That’s a gross oversimplification, but yes,” Katie said.

“Ok, but I thought _divination_ was seeing the future?” Joanne asked.

“That’s because you read fantasy novels instead of your textbooks,” Katie said with a smirk. “Divination is the ability to find things.”

“Like finding things _out_ about the _future_!” Joanne teased.

Katie made a face. “Like finding objects, or even people,” She clarified.

“So I could have been a _bounty hunter_ and you still believe empathy is a cooler skill?”

“Well, it got you a full ride, didn’t it?” Katie asked. “And you know it’s the only ability IPS offers that for…” She turned to give her friend a look, but Joanne’s attention was elsewhere.

"Seriously?" her friend asked, her voice raised. "We are literally the only people here. Who are we being quiet for?"

Behind them Miss Bishop, who had been about to shush them again, fell back against her seat and snapped her mouth shut, looking violated.

Katie spun back around and gaped at her friend. "You're gonna get me kicked out of here!" she squeaked.

"Pfft, yeah right," Joanne scoffed. "You're like her best customer."

"Libraries are free you absolute goober." Despite snorting in amusement, Katie started to frantically scan the QR codes on the spines of her stack of books. One of the first things she had done once school started was hacking the library app to allow her to check out more than the standard five electronic versions of their books at a time. She preferred physical books over her cell, the weight was comforting and the screen light hurt her eyes after a few hours - but beggars can't be choosers.

"Well especially when they never make it out the door." Joanne said, watching her scan.

Katie rolled her eyes. "I just want to make sure I actually get a chance to see these before I'm banned for life. And anyway I have to be in class soon and I probably couldn’t carry all of these to that building, never mind all the way home."

"Because the obvious and proper course of events when I'm the one that snapped at her is for her to kick _you_ out," Joanne said. She paused, watching her friend scan book after book. "Listen, Katie, can you do me a favor?"

Katie paused in her work and looked at her friend with wide eyes. "Oh, no, you have your serious voice on."

Joanne made a face. "Yes I have my serious voice on, Katie, I've known you since kindergarten-"

"When you stole my juice box."

"You _gave_ me the juice box, but don't distract me." Joanne said sternly. Then she took Katie's free hand, and her friend almost dropped her cell in shock. Serious voice plus hand hold meant _real actual serious no joke business_. "I've never seen you with this much anxiety, not even a couple of years ago when you saw that doctor, and it's really starting to worry me. So I would take it as a close personal best-juice-box-stealing-friend-forever-favor if you would go see the nurse here before you go home today."

"You want me to see the school nurse?" Katie asked flatly.

"Nurse practitioner," Joanne corrected smugly. It wasn't often that she got to correct Katie. "Which means she's allowed to issue prescriptions, like that anxiety medication you were on before."

"There's no such thing as a long term anxiety medication, Joanne, what I was taking was a tailored serotonin reuptake inhibitor-"

"Tomato, potato, as long as it works," Joanne cut her off, shrugging.

Katie's hand shot up into the air, and three people sitting near her put down their cells. Her arguments with the teacher were the only interesting thing to ever happen in this class.

"But Miss Hammond," she started without waiting to be called on. Hammond never called on her. "Instead of focusing so much on the manipulation of psychic energy, couldn't we explore some alternate uses for it? Like, interaction with technology, or-"

"Doctor," Hammond cut Katie off. "It's Doctor Hammond, not Miss. And we're not exploring new theories in this class, we're learning about the original theories that led to everything we currently know about psychic powers."

"But Mc-, Mis-, _Doctor_ Hammond," Katie sputtered anxiously, trying not to panic. "I don't really see how _all_ of these theories are really _relevant_. Here, listen," she flipped to somewhere in the middle of her textbook. "Doctor Green postulated that diet may affect an individual's proficiency with certain types of psychic manipulation. To prove this theory Doctor Green altered his diet to include only starchy breads and pork products. His results were inconclusive." She snapped her book shut, her expression incredulous. "What the book doesn't mention is that his results were inconclusive because less than two months into his diet he keeled over of a heart attack."

Hammond was frowning at her. "Miss Johnson, this class does not encourage reading ahead, it will make it more difficult for you to follow along with the rest of the class as we cover the curriculum at the assigned pace each day. And we most certainly do not encourage working _outside_ of the curriculum. As a matter of fact, I don't allow it."

"Who would even _bother_." Katie heard the girl nearest to her mutter.

"No one has ever done anything worth mentioning by _following the curriculum,_ " Katie grumbled. She'd meant to say it to herself, but the room was so silent (save for an occasional snore,) that her voice could be clearly heard.

Hammond's smile was wide and cold. She couldn't have looked more like a frog if she had been literally eating flies. "Perhaps, but I should remind you _Miss Johnson_ , you are here on a scholarship. So you have a vested interest in _following the curriculum_ ," she mimicked Katie's tone as she spat the last bit out.

Katie was trembling with suppressed anxiety, panic, and especially anger, but she kept her mouth shut. The effort left her breathless and nauseated.

Hammond's smirk twisted in triumph as she turned back to her smart board. "Alright everyone, turn to page ten. Today we'll be learning about theories regarding the actual abilities of stage psychics during the nineteenth and twentieth century's."

Katie drooped over her desk, stifling a groan.

This was one of those rare occasions when Katie was genuinely confused. Because this building held classrooms, she was sure of it. But this particular classroom didn't look like a classroom, it looked like a _laboratory._ (Oh, be still her fluttering heart) Only it couldn't possibly be a research lab, those were clear across campus and securely locked with a mechanism that she didn't know how to crack yet because she kept getting _caught._

Dangit.

But none of that mattered, because she had been directed here looking for the _nurses_ office.

"Um, excuse me, are...are you the school nurse?" Katie asked, standing awkwardly in the doorway to what had to be the oddest classroom/lab she'd ever seen. She could see a lot of human anatomy displayed around as sculptures and prints, that was cool. She didn't see any scalpels or any other sharp instruments, also a good sign. The half dissected pig in the corner was slightly concerning.

There was only one woman in the room, sitting at one of the desks sorting out some paperwork. And Katie really had to ask because she didn't look anything like what she'd expect a nurse to look like. But the woman nodded and stepped down from her stool. "In a manner of speaking. You can call me Pam. What can I do for you?"

Now standing, Katie got the full effect of her outfit, and there was just no way. Everything fit well and went well together and she had just enough accessories to be cool. There was just no way this woman was really the nurse. She was too young and too stylish, and you know what else, there wasn't a lollipop in sight.

"You know..." She said, beginning to turn away.

The woman sighed. "Not a prank, not a joke, no I'm not gonna try and heal you with leeches. Now getcherass in here and tell me where it hurts." She started to eye Katie critically once she was in range.

Katie bit her lip and twisted her hands together. "Well, my friend...she was worried about me..." she muttered quietly. She hated to admit she needed help, blaming it on Joanne somehow made it easier.

"Anxiety," Pam stated matter-of-factly, like she was compiling a list. "Malnutrition - child, when was the last time you ate?"

"I had breakfast!" Katie said defensively.

"It's six pm." Pam raised her eyebrow.

Katie lifted her chin slightly. "Well it's not my fault the cafeteria here closes stupidly early."

"Are you kidding me, girl?" she asked, her hands on her hips. "The cafeteria is open from eleven to five, what is it that you're doing in that window of time that prevents you from running in and grabbing a granola bar?"

Katie crossed her arms and stood up a little straighter. "Studying! This is a school, isn't it?"

She laughed. "Alright, cool off, Straight A, I get it," she said, leaning back against the desk. "Have you ever seen a doctor about any of these problems?"

Another subject Katie wasn't very comfortable with, but here at least she only had to state facts. "My family doctor ordered tests a few years ago. I even had an NCD."

"NCD...." Pam trailed off for a moment.

"It's a Neurochemical Delineation scan," Katie started to explain automatically.

"Right, right," Pam said, remembering. "That's where they check the chemicals in your brain, right?"

"Yes, and whether they balance and match up with averages." It never even occurred to her that the 'Right?' may have been rhetorical.

"And did they?" she asked, doing an absolutely terrible job at hiding her smile.

Katie looked away. "No."

"Do I look surprised?"

Her eyes snapped back up, irritated now. "Do I?"

Pam was completely unruffled. "Lucky for you I'm my own NCD scanner," she said without missing a beat. She took Katie by the shoulders and guided her around until she faced the door. "You won't have to wait around or jump through any hoops to get that taken care of, now just hold still."

"You have your own NCD scanner?" Katie asked, flustered

"No, I _am_ my own NCD scanner," she said again as she set her hands on either side of Katie's head. Her manner and tone were so business-like, and yet what she was doing was so wacky, it was all Katie could do not to laugh.

"Ok, I'm definitely seeing a serious serotonin imbalance..." Pam murmured.

"Wait, what?" Katie pulled her head back, staring at her in shock. "Seriously? _Psychicly?_ You're doing a psychic NCD right now?

Pam pursed her lips and grabbed Katie's head to bring it back to where it was. "Yes, now _hold still_."

Katie took her time getting home, but she still got there before seven. If only the library were open past six! Next thing on her to-do list was to learn to pick locks, seriously.

She crossed her fingers that everyone had already finished dinner, took a deep breath and readied herself for the gauntlet.

"Oh, Katie! There you are!" Mildred, her stepmother, cried from the kitchen. "You missed dinner, but I can still make you a plate!"

 _Hallelujah_ , she was off the hook."Oh, uh, that's okay!" Katie squeaked. "I ate at school, so I'm full."

Mildred appeared in the door way to the kitchen as Katie was trying to ease her way through the living room and to the hallway leading to her room. "You know, I don't think we've shared a meal as a family more than once or twice since you moved in last month!" she said, her expression pained, yet angelic.

Mildred's expression always waxed angelic, although Katie didn't think she knew anyone who looked less like an angel. Mildred was overweight, not by a lot but in very unfortunate ways. Her face looked like a cross between a bulldog and a pancake, an unpleasant enough sight without the short, permed, white blonde hairstyle she sported. The rest of her weight was held primarily on her stomach and butt, so that when she turned to the side she looked eerily like a duck.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you just didn't like us!" she continued. She seemed genuinely saddened, but Katie wasn't fooled. She may not have tested into Empathy, but she wasn't an idiot. In reality. Mildred was nosy, controlling and manipulative. Dinner was the best time for her to dig for information.

Honestly, though, none of that would even bother Katie that much. It was the _food_. Oh good god the food...

Katie shook her head, her face turning a bright red and she continued to back up toward the hallway. "No, no, I've just been studying, you know..." she said, her voice slightly strangled. She didn't know how to tell the woman that the squashed bird she'd seen on the side of the road walking home looked more appetizing than anything Mildred had ever cooked.

"Your hair looks ridiculous." Em appeared out of nowhere, poking at her bun. "I wish you would let me give you a makeover.

Katie glanced over at her stepsister, who's huge eyes were trained on her hair as she smiled woodenly. The girl's face was covered in a copious layer of makeup, which she'd been wearing for nearly twelve hours by now and it was starting to smudge and flake. Katie swallowed thickly. "Thanks, but I have homework I really need to take care of. Maybe after?"

That of course was a complete lie. She hadn't brought her homework home since the first day of school, when her twelve year old step-brother had sneaked into her room, covered her research in chocolate sauce, and fed the entire mess to the dog. Who, in turn, vomited the entire mess onto her bed.

"Well, don't study _too_ hard!" Mildred's chipper voice cut in. "You know men hate smart women."

Katie bit her lip hard, strangling the retort, _Is that your excuse?_

"What am I saying, you're not at a _real_ school anyway." Mildred giggled, waving her hand as she turned back toward the kitchen, completely oblivious to Katie's struggle. Katie took her chance to dart toward the hall.

"Oh, before you run off," Mildred called from the kitchen. "Your father wanted to talk to you. He's playing with his VR unit in the office."

Katie flinched, she hated it when people called Adam her father, but she stopped at the office door rather than continuing to her room. She'd found that when she tried to ignore Mildred or Adam, things got weird quickly.

Katie knocked on the door frame, trying to get Adam's attention. He was in the process of extracting himself from his VR gear, somewhat violently. He looked like he was about to throw a tantrum, which meant that whatever he'd been doing, he'd probably lost.

At forty years old, her biological father, Adam, still tended to behave like a prepubescent child. He was just shy of six feet tall, with thinning brown hair, glasses, a bulbous nose, a weak chin, and a weird tooth that jutted out sideways. He was extremely skinny everywhere except his belly, which bulged oddly all the way around his middle in a way that made him look as though he were wearing an inner-tube under his shirt.

"What is it?" he snapped when he heard her knock.

"Mildred said you wanted to talk to me?" Katie said, leaning against the door frame.

Adam looked up and smiled when he caught sight of her. "Oh, yes. Listen, I need you to clear your schedule for Friday night."

Katie frowned. "Why?"

"Because _you_ ," he said, pointing to her and grinning, "have a _date_."

Katie stiffened, completely shocked, and more than a little bit horrified. "What?" she squeaked.

"Now, I know you said you weren't interested in dating anyone right now, but I think you'll really like this guy," Adam said, and winked. Katie didn't know whether to scream or throw up.

"Besides," Mildred chirped, appearing at her elbow with a plate of cookies, sliding past her to get into the office, "you're getting kind of old."

"Old?" Katie sputtered. "I'm only _eighteen_!"

Mildred set her cookies on the desk and turned back to her, eyes wide. "Exactly," she said, completely serious. "By the time I was your age I was married, and about to be pregnant with my dear Emmaline."

"His name is Brandon," Adam told her.

"Oh, Brandon? He's such a nice boy!" Mildred twittered. She smiled at Katie. "You'll like him, He's very serious about his studies, just like you!"

Adam nodded. Neither of them seemed to notice how horrified she looked. "Anyway, he'll be here at seven o'clock, so make sure you get home early enough to get ready."

Katie had no idea what to say. What do you say to that? Should she curtsy? Go back to spinning thread? Churning butter? What even time period was this outdated nonsense from? _She didn't know the etiquette._

She struggled with herself for a few moments, still at a total loss for how to respond. So instead of saying something she'd regret, she turned and walked away without a word.

" _Doctor_ Hammond," Katie said, lifting her hand. Cells went down, and a few rows away someone nudged his friend awake from his nap. Katie ignored them. "I noticed that in this chapter in the textbook we touch briefly on 'technokinetics', a form of telekinesis that allows the user to interact with technology, I was hoping we could discuss that."

Hammond frowned at Katie. "I think 'briefly' is an understatement. But back before the turn of the century, technokinesis was one of the many _falsified_ forms of psychic manipulation." She turned her attention to the rest of the class. "Among these were also 'automatic writing', and psychic 'mediums', who claimed they could speak to the dead. But scientists have since come to the conclusion that any claims regarding ghosts or poltergeists where hoaxes. If you'll all turn to page thirty-six, we can read more about these studies-"

"The results of which were inconclusive!" Katie interrupted, again jutting her hand up in the air with an edge of pleading to her voice. "Scientists are still in the process of investigating the existence of ghosts, but their results have shown strong evidence in _favor_ of the poltergeist phenomenon, at least, being very likely based on fact. But what I'm interested in is the implications of _technokinesis-_ "

"What you should be interested in, _Miss Johnson_ ," Hammond cut her off. "Is settling down and paying attention to _my lesson_ , before I have to ask you to leave the classroom for disrupting our learning environment."

Katie slumped back down in her seat and Hammond turned back to her smart board without waiting for a response.

What _exactly_ was this woman supposed to be teaching her?

Katie sat at her table in the library after class, half a dozen books piled in front of her, unopened.

Between her new nurse-doctor-model-lady putting her back on her antidepressants, getting set up on a blind date by people she wouldn't trust to pick out blueberries, nevermind a boyfriend, and just _everything_ to do with this teacher - this _teacher_! Who had even the nerve to call her that? - she had been so upset the night before she had blazed through every book she'd checked out in a single sitting.

She did generally find reading comforting, but she usually tried to pace herself better than that. Too much too fast had a tendency of giving her a nasty headache. Lately, though, she wouldn't even have noticed if it had.

The fact of the matter was, she was at her wits end.

And the trouble was, she had no idea what she could do about it.

"Hello again."

Katie must have jumped about a foot in the air. Across from her Drew held out his hand, looking both shocked and amused. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you!"

"Oh, you didn't!" Katie shook her head and tried to collect herself. "I mean you _did_ , but, I mean...heh. I mean, it's okay." She smiled wryly at him. "It's not your fault, I was kind of in my own world."

"I know how that is. I like to work on cars, I can get pretty focused. Uh...is it alright if I sit here?" He motioned toward the chair across from her.

"Oh, no, it's fine." She glanced around as he sat. "Where are your ...um, friends?" she asked hesitantly.

Drew wrinkled his nose just a little bit. "I think you mean my groupies," he said, and grinned when Katie quickly slapped a hand over her mouth. "I actually ditched them near the Kinetics training grounds. It wasn't that hard, I'm not a Kinetic, so there wasn't really a good reason for my being there."

Katie's eyes widened. "Oh, you're not? I just assumed, they don't usually talk to anyone unless they're Kinetics, too."

"Yeah, I figured." Drew shook his head. "They think they're better than everyone else, right?" He raised his eyebrow as Katie nodded. "Yeah, it took me probably about two minutes to notice the hierarchy."

Katie laughed. "Yeah, I think the word 'hierarchy' sums it up perfectly. So, if you don't mind me asking," she said, leaning forward. "what are you, then? You can't be in general, I'd have noticed you. And Isobel wouldn't have made a jab at it yesterday."

Drew smirked. "I'm in precognition. I have no idea why, though, I'm horrible at it. I feel like they're trying to teach me to play a piano with a forklift." He leaned forward, too, bracing his arms on the table. "The way I understand it, precogs are second to the Kinetics, just popular enough to be ignored rather than bullied. I'm not trying to call my groupies shallow, of course, but I think my looks may have had something to do with their interest."

Katie had to slap her hand over her mouth again to stifle her laughter. "No!" she gasped, when her laughter had calmed down enough. "Surely it was entirely your personality!" she continued sarcastically.

Drew rolled his eyes, a motion that actually looked extremely odd on him. I'd love to believe that, except that I made it a point to say as little as possible around them. I know for a fact I never told them my name, if they know it's because they overheard me telling you." He shook his head. "Anyway, if you don't mind _my_ asking...I've been here twice in two days, and both times you've been here. Would it be correct to assume you spend a lot of time in the library?"

Katie hunched her shoulders, blushing. "Yes, you would be correct to assume that."

"You must take your studies very seriously," he said. He sounded strange, almost coaxing, as though he didn't want to scare her away. But his words still sounded more like a question than a statement.

"Uh, yeah...let's go with that," she said, averting her eyes. Subtlety had never been her strong suit.

"Oh, I'm sensing an interesting story here," he said, leaning further forward and ducking his head, trying to catch her eyes. "Would it have anything to do with why you achieved the power of flight when I greeted you earlier?"

Katie sighed, giving up. "Ok, well, I do take my studies as seriously as the next person,"

"So, not at all?" Drew asked, grinning.

Katie laughed. "So maybe a bit _more_ seriously than the next person," she corrected herself. "But the truth is, I spend most of my time in the library because I don't really have anywhere else to go."

"Well, that doesn't sound right," Drew said, frowning. "You can't go home?"

"It's not really a matter of _can't_ , so much as 'don't want to,'" Katie said, shrugging.

Drew raised his eyebrows. "Crappy roommate?" he asked.

"Yeah, you could say that," Katie said, with a small laugh.

"Well, why don't you just move out?"

Katie wrinkled her nose. "No money."

"Job?" he persisted.

"No car.Of course, that's not to say I can't take the bus," she added rapidly, "but no one seems to want to hire me."

Drew grimaced. "Wow. That sucks."

"I know," Katie sighed.

"Well, there's a garage about a mile up the road, and I think they're hiring. Have you tried there?"

Katie blinked in surprise. "Uh, no. But, I mean, that's not too far or anything, but I'm not a mechanic."

"Oh, it's not a mechanic's position," Drew said, shaking his head. "It's kind of a secretary, slash janitor, slash gopher type of position. I know it's not exactly glamorous-" he started to add when he saw her confused expression.

"There's nothing wrong with the job," Katie interrupted. "The job sounds great-"

"Katie!" she heard Joanne cry frantically, cutting her off. She looked up and caught sight of Joanne dashing through the doors of the library, looking absolutely frenzied. She saw Miss Bishop glance over and then look pointedly away.

Joanne didn't stop sprinting until she fell against the table. "You're never gonna believe what just happened," she gasped. "Hey, Drew," she added over her shoulder when she caught sight of him.

"Hey. It's Joanne, right?" Drew asked, holding out his hand.

It was about then that Joanne realized who she'd just spoken to. She looked slowly back over at Drew, her eyes getting wider by the second. Her mouth snapped shut and she sank into the seat beside Katie, still staring.

Drew started to pull back his hand, looking confused. "Joanne?" He tried again. The only response he got was something between a squeak and a sob. He turned back to Katie, clearly concerned.

Katie, for her part, was doing her very best not to laugh. "I think you make her nervous," she said.

"Why?" he asked.

"Well, I'm not trying to call her shallow or anything," she said, completely straight faced. "But I think it may have something to do with your looks."

Drew chuckled, and turned back to Joanne. "Would it help if I turned around?" Joanne nodded enthusiastically, so he stood up and flipped his chair around.

"Joanne, what's got you so riled up?" Katie asked, as soon as Drew's back was turned.

Joanne hesitated, but turned toward Katie with her voice lowered. "You remember Adrian? I was telling you about him yesterday?"

"Um, no…" Katy said, confused.

"Oh," Joanne shook her head. "Sorry, Von Snotface. His real name is Adrian."

"Oh, right, okay. The smarmy idiot who was trying to pass himself off as a mind reader." Katie raised her eyebrows. "Don't tell me he was the real deal?"

Joanne shook her head. "No, he was totally full of it, you were completely right!"

"See, I told you. Did you do something to debunk him? Was it hilarious?"

Joanne snorted. "Uh, _yeah_? I was thinking really hard about all that stuff you told me about how mind reading wasn't real and telepathy and, you know, Wi-Fi-"

"You couldn't remember any of it, could you, Joanne?"

"No, of course not, _BUT_ I remembered the important part which was that my best friend who is the World Class Champion Dweebmeister twenty-six years running-"

"I'm eighteen, Joanne!" Katie interjected, a little louder than she meant, mortified that Drew might have taken that seriously. Drew let out a bark of laughter.

"-knows beyond any shadow of a doubt that mindreading isn't scientifically possible," Joanne didn't even pause. "Then there is no way he is reading my mind right now, and if he is then he can tell me I'm thinking about all that I just said."

Katie shook her head just slightly. "I'm guessing he didn't say all that?

Joanne's snort was even more long and drawn out. "No! He kept trying to say that I was trying to think of how to ask him out and stuff like that." She tsked and looked away. "I mean, how annoying is that, right?"

Katie's eyes widened. "Oh, my god," she muttered. "You really do have the hots for him, don't you?"

"No!" Joanne's blush (which was the first dead giveaway) got deeper, and she refused to meet Katie's eyes.

Katie could hear Drew trying to fight laughter. "You didn't make him suffer at all, did you?" she asked accusingly.

"Well, class was about to start!" Joanne squeaked, defensively. "Besides, he's actually a really good empath, he'd have to be to trick people into thinking he read minds. And yeah, fine, okay, he's also pretty much smoking hot." She ducked her head, embarrassed.

Katie raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Really? Do you have trouble talking in front of him, too?" she quipped, earning herself a sharp jab in the ribs and a soft chuckle from Drew.

" _No,_ " Joanne growled. "And that's not funny. And," she dropped her voice to a whisper, "what is he _doing_ here?"

"He's actually really nice. We were talking, and he's gonna try and get me a job at the garage down the street." She caught herself. "That is, he told me about there being a job there, so I can apply."

"I'll help if I can," Drew assured her over his shoulder.

Joanne blinked. "That doesn't make sense. Why is he being nice to you?"

Katie shrugged. "I was actually about to ask him that when you came careening into the building."

Joanne shook her head. "He can't be nice to you, he'll lose his kinetic fan club and drop down to obscurity with us, even if he's _not_ a 'Charity Case'." She sneered as she drawled out the nickname they'd both been given. "Being nice to you won't make you popular, it'll make him _unpopular_."

"You're _kidding_ , right?" Drew said, turning back around. Joanne immediately clammed up.

Katie shrugged a shoulder. "Uh, no, that's pretty much how it's gonna work."

Drew groaned. "You say that like I should _care_. I'm not surprised you think I'll lose popularity, I'm surprised you think I give a crap. Honestly, I feel like I should be offended." Joanne's eyes narrowed just slightly, but even Katie noticed the edge of petulance to his voice.

"Drew, have you ever _been_ unpopular?" Katie asked. There was a giggle to her voice, but she regarded him seriously. "It's no picnic, lemme tell you."

Drew sighed, shrugging. "Well, being _popular_ isn't exactly a picnic, either. Life sucks all around, at least if I hang out with you I'll have someone to talk to who has more than two brain cells to rub together."

Katie laughed, holding up her hands. "Alright, you win. But you're gonna lose your groupies, I just hope you know that."

"Oh, how _will_ I go on?" he said, his voice dripping sarcasm.

"Well, I should get going if I want to get to that garage before they close," Katie said, pulling out her tablet to scan her new books. "Joanne, did you wanna come?"

Drew was still facing them, so she had to lean in close to Katie to whisper in her ear. Drew covered his face, trying to hide his smile.

"You can't, why not?" Katie frowned. She tried not to roll her eyes when Joanne leaned back in to whisper.

"Adrian? You mean that mind-reading phony?" Katie pulled back, staring at her friend incredulously. "And you're going on a _date_ with him? How exactly do you plan to communicate? _Sign language_?"

This time Katie managed to dodge the elbow aimed at her ribs. Across from them Drew could barely contain his laughter. "You two are a trip," he said when he had the breath.

Joanne bounced out of her seat, pausing to peck Katie on the cheek before dashing toward the door. "I'll tell you how it goes!" she called over her shoulder once Drew was out of her sight.

Katie shook her head. "That girl is crazy," she muttered.

"But amusing," Drew said, standing up and stretching. "At least you're never bored."

Katie laughed. "There is that. Joanne and I have been friends since we were teeny. She helped me get the scholarship to come here." She started to pile her books together to take them to the return cart, and Drew circled the table to help. "She's my best friend, even if she is crazy."

"Well, in my experience, the best friends usually are," Drew said, as he lifted one of her piles of books. He laughed in surprise when he felt the weight. "Do you actually read all of these?" he asked incredulously.

Katie shrugged, blushing. "Well, I have time, and they're pretty interesting," she said, leading the way toward the return cart.

"Is the job gonna interfere, you think?"

"Not really," she said, shaking her head. "The job will give me something else to concentrate on, and something to look forward to. And it's not like I need to worry about my grades, none of these even have anything to do with my classes." She dumped her books on the cart, and dusted off her hands. "Now I just need to get there."

"Well, don't worry about walking," Drew said, following suit with his own pile of books. "I can give you a ride."

"Oh, that's okay," Katie said, a little surprised he would even offer. "You don't have to."

"I want to," he insisted. "Besides, I'm already headed there."

"You are? Why?" Katie asked. She paused at her table to grab her bag and sling it over her shoulder.

"I have this old car I'm tinkering with. Like I said, I like to work on cars," Drew said, and shrugged. He looked a little embarrassed. "Anyway, the owner lets me work on my car out back.How did you think I knew about the job?" He turned to head toward the door, but stopped when he noticed Katie wasn't following him.

"You tinker," she said, raising an eyebrow. "And if I get a job there, I'll be working. While you tinker."

Drew chuckled, and nodded.

Katie tilted her head. "Which means...?"

"Well, I guess we'll have time together...to talk." The smile that spread across his face as he spoke veered heavily toward mischievous. Katie caught sight of a dimple she hadn't noticed before.

She walked toward him, shaking her head. "It's one thing to hang out at school, but the more time we spend together after classes are over, the worse Isobel will get

Drew leaned his head back and groaned. "Ugh, no more talk about Isobel, please? I don't care, she doesn't matter." He lifted his head back up and took her hands. "Just for the rest of the day, how about we don't worry about people who hate us, or want to make us miserable or crush our dreams or any of that? Let's focus first on you getting this nice job, and then on me making a friend I can actually carry on a conversation with? okay?"

And it really would be so nice to, just for a little while, forget about everything. Get this job, make a friend, and forget about _everything else_.

Katie hesitated, but Drew's hands were so warm, and his expression was so sincere. that before she could even finish the thought, she was nodding. "Alright, deal," she said, and smiled.

Drew smiled back. "Excellent," he said. He dropped one of her hands, but kept a firm hold on the other as he led her out the door.


	2. 102 - It's Cool (I Have Soap)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katie gets a new job, and Mildred is none too pleased about it, particularly when she thinks it interferes with the blind date she'd set up for Katie

**102 - It's cool (I have soap)**

The garage was nothing like what Katie was expecting. It looked ancient, like something out of the nineteen-fifties. It was just an old, run-down gray building. It was so dilapidated and old that it was a good thing Katie didn't believe in ghosts as anything more than a possibility, or else she would think this place was very possibly _extremely_ haunted.

"You've seen these guys, right, they're completely opaque?" she asked him nervously. Drew started to chuckle. "You're not a golem or anything, sent out to lure unsuspecting females?" She glanced at him sidelong. "Would it matter if I were a virgin?"

Drew laughed outright. "Yes they are, I don't even know what a golem is, and no," he checked off in order, smirking at her. "Relax, you'd be surprised how much business they actually get. I was here for about two hours yesterday and at least four people came by." He parked his car, a surprisingly old ford, outside what looked like the office.

Until he mentioned it, Katie hadn't even noticed how tense she was. When she went to open her door, her arm jerked as though her joints were rusted solid. Katie grimaced, and took a deep breath. "I'm relaxed," she squeaked, unconvincingly. "I'm _perfectly_ relaxed."

"If this is the way you look relaxed, I'd hate to see you freaking out," Drew said, grinning. "You look like a deer caught in the headlights."

The inside of the garage looked about as ancient as the outside, and was cluttered with hundreds of parts and tools, some of which she was sure hadn't been used on a functioning car in over a hundred and fifty years. She wasn't exactly an expert on antique vehicles, but she was pretty sure one of the strange parts she spotted hanging on the wall was either a spark producing hand crank or some sort of medieval torture device.

But despite the fact that the majority of the garage looked as though it belonged in a museum, there were two relatively new cars parked on lifts, with two people working on each of them.

"Hey, look, it's prince charming!" One of them - a bald, portly man with a bushy brown mustache that Katie immediately started to think of as 'Walrus' - crowed when he caught sight of them.

A tall man with a ball cap ducked his head under the bumper of the car to look at them. His hair was covered but she could tell it was red by his beard, and he was the only one there wearing coveralls with a nametag stitched on, Rudy. For some reason she was certain he was the owner. "Hey, Drew, remember to cover up that car of yours this time, I'm not gonna be responsible-"

"What's he got a girl with him for?" The man beside Rudy was taller and skinner, and a 'Slim' if Katie had ever seen one.

Walrus roared with laughter. "I told you that car was a chick magnet!"

Slim leaned against the side of the car he and Rudy were working on. "What kind of guy brings his date to a garage? Very un-suave, buddy."

"K', Drew, listen, this isn't Lady and the Tramp here, alright?" Rudy said, frowning and wagging a wrench at the two of them. "Don't you think for a second I'm okay with you getting up to anything with this girl in that back lot. If I hear any funny business I _will_ spray you with that hose-"

"Guys, come on, _really?_ " Drew broke in, his face twisted in disbelief. "She's here for the _job_ , give me a break!"

"You're serious?" Rudy raised an eyebrow, stepping forward and crossing his arms. "You know this isn't a flower shop, right?" he asked, eyeing Katie. "You'll get dirty working here."

Katie hesitated, then shrugged. "I have soap."

Rudy cracked a smile while the others guffawed. "What's your availability?"

"Anytime after four Monday through Friday, all day on the weekend."

"You going to school?" Rudy asked, frowning. "You gotta be eighteen to work here."

"Oh, I am eighteen," Katie said quickly. "I'm going to IPS, right up the street."

Rudy's eyes flicked over to Drew, who shrugged. "You're going to that psychic school, too?" he asked, turning back to her. "Does that mean you'll be bippity-boppity-booing the broom into doing the work for you?"

Katie laughed nervously, and shook her head. "Oh, uh, no. I'm not telekinetic. Even the ones who are, well, just sweeping the normal way is probably easier, really." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, no. I didn't test into any proficiencies."

"Proficiencies?" Rudy asked, raising an eyebrow. As stern as he looked, she could tell he was getting amused. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

Katie turned bright red. "Well, it's just...like, you know how some people are born naturally athletic? It's kind of like that. When you apply to the school they test you for the different methods of psychic manipulation-" she noticed his eyebrow twitch, and clarified. "Which is just the different ways you can _use_ psychic energy. It's on a scale of one to fifteen, and you have to test at a six or above to be proficient, which puts you in the specialized class." Katie shrugged. "The highest score I got was a four. So I'm in the general class."

Rudy cleared his throat. "Alright, well, all I took from that was 'No, Mr. Lowe, sir, you will _not_ have to worry about a floating broomstick up and randomly stabbing you in the ass.' Which is good, because once was more than enough."

The rest of the shop roared with laughter- Katie's relatively quiet laughter was completely drowned out. "Relax, girl," Rudy said when he noticed her discomfort. "I'm not gonna bite you."

"Yeah, not unless you're an éclair!" Slim piped up, still laughing.

Rudy narrowed his eyes and rounded on the group. "Would you three get back to work?"

The rest, still grinning, started bustling around their cars. Rudy turned back toward Katie and grunted. "Alright, well, what we need is basically cleaning and straightening. If you learn what's what I might send you to fetch tools and parts, and if all that ain't enough for you, there's always paperwork to be done. Now, if you think you can handle that, I'm not gonna argue with you."

Katie nodded rapidly, so Rudy waved her forward and led her toward the back of the garage. "We close at seven. You can come in whenever you want. But if you don't do a good enough job, or if I just don't like you, I'll replace you. End of story."

Katie turned red, but nodded.

"Don't listen to him, sweetheart," Walrus said. "Rudy doesn't fire anyone."

"Yeah, hey, Rudy, maybe you should not be so gruff with the girl. She's timid enough, ain't she?" Marcus added.

"I _am_ gruff," Rudy mumbled. "She'll have to get used to it eventually."

Katie giggled quietly, the closest she'd come to relaxed since she got there.

Rudy smirked. "Alright, well, let's show you around, then?"

Peach’s Juice and Tonic was _the_ place to be from five to seven during the week. If you had any kind of social status, you went to Peach’s after school.

So, naturally, that’s where Isobel, Anne and Myst were; they were sitting around their usual table, which was near the window so they could talk about the people passing by.

“It’s not like it was a date…” Anne said quietly, her squeaky voice even higher than usual.

Isobel visibly stiffened, and Anne snatched up her cup and hid behind it. “Yeah, who would go to such a dirty old place for a date? Gross,” Myst retorted, oblivious to the tension.

“It doesn’t _matter_ if it was a date,” Isobel grumbled. “The point is that…that _loser_ is spending time with _my_ boyfriend!”

“Oh, he’s your boyfriend?” Myst asked innocently. Anne twitched, and Myst jumped. “Ow…” she muttered.

“Not _yet,"_ Isobel said, lifting her chin. “But he _will_ be.”

“You’re always so confident!” Anne gushed. “I really envy that about you.”

“I wish Drew could be _my_ boyfriend,” Myst sighed.

Isobel snorted. “Please, Myst, you still can’t even turn water to ice. Or to vapor, even, ironically, given your name.”

Myst looked hurt. “What’s wrong with my name?”

“Nothing, sweetie,” Anne patted her hand. “She was just making a joke.”

“It didn’t seem very funny…” Myst said, still looking confused.

Isobel groaned and rolled her eyes. “Grow up,” she grumbled. Anne frowned at her, and Isobel turned to look pointedly out the window.

Anne settled back into her chair. “So what do you plan to do about the girl?” she asked.

“What, like I need to do anything?” she scoffed. “She’s a loser. He’s only talking to her out of pity.”

Myst sniffed. “She’s such a loser."

“Hey,” Anne sat up straighter. “Isn’t that the loser’s loser friend?” she asked, nodding toward the window.

Isobel turned to look, and an evil grin spread across her face. “Aw, look. The gangly redheaded loser is on a date with a skinny, gangly nerd!” she cooed. “That’s so cute!” Her smile vanished, and she glared.

Abruptly, a mat the two nerds were walking across shifted and was yanked from under their feet. The boy got his balance pretty fast, but the girl toppled head over heels. The boy got her by the arms right before she hit the concrete. By the time they were both standing straight again, the mat was settled back where it had been before.

Anne glanced over at Isobel, who was looking quite satisfied. “Did you do that?”

Isobel’s expression was suddenly unfathomable. “Do what?”

“Don’t be silly, Anne. Isobel can’t knock people over. You guys are still working on maintaining elevation on leaves,” Myst said the last part mechanically, plainly reciting what she’d been told.

Isobel raised an eyebrow. “See?”

Anne frowned, but kept her mouth shut.

When Katie got home, Em was sprawled out on the couch, and her little brother was running frantic circles around the living room like a demented Chihuahua on speed. Mildred greeted her at the door, her hands on her hips.

"It's seven thirty! Where have you been? It's getting dark, we were worried!" she chirped.

"Oh, sorry. But I got a job!" Katie said, too excited to worry what Mildred thought about the whole development. "I'm working there until seven every night! Don't worry about a ride, I've already got one," she added quickly. Drew had offered just a few minutes ago when he dropped her off, and she had easily accepted. Winter was right around the corner, and she didn't like walking home in the dark. "Oh, or dinner, worked that out with the school," she included as an afterthought. She didn't want Mildred to start saving her plates. She fought down her urge to shudder at the thought.

"A job?" Mildred squeaked, sounding almost distraught. "When did this happen?"

"Just now!" Katie said. She didn't even notice the odd look on Mildred's face. "There's a garage down the street from the school, and they were hiring so I just dropped in to apply, and he kind of interviewed me on the spot." She shrugged and grabbed an apple from the basket.

"Ok, well, I'm...I'm glad you're _excited,_ " Mildred said, looking frazzled. Katie finally started to notice her odd behavior. "But you should know that we don't mind taking care of you until you-uh...well, until you _find your way_."

Katie started to back up, her excitement evaporating. "Yeah, well...this job is how I'm gonna do that."

"And a garage?" Mildred continued without pausing. "That's really not the proper place for a woman. You'll get so _dirty-_ "

"I have soap," Katie said blandly. What was with everyone's sudden concern for her hygiene?

"And what about all those _men?_ " she moaned fretfully, as though they were discussing the end of the world. "That is _no place_ for a woman!"

"I like _those men,_ " Katie growled. She had been so excited, she should have known better than to let Mildred in on the news. "I'll _make_ a place for myself," she added, lifting her chin defiantly. "I start tomorrow. You don't have to like it."

Mildred sputtered at her tone. "Young lady, I would have hoped that...that even if those parents of yours weren't _god-fearing_ people, they'd have at least taught you to _respect your elders_ -"

"They taught me to respect my _superiors,_ " Katie cut her off before spinning on her heel and marching away toward her room. " _Age_ has nothing to do with it," she called over her shoulder.

"Well!" Mildred blustered after a short pause. She turned to her daughter. "Don't you ever let me catch you acting like that young lady!"

Em waved absently toward her mother as Mildred trotted toward the hallway after Katie.

"I certainly hope this _job_ isn't going to interfere with your date tomorrow!" she cried.

The only answer she got was Katie slamming her door.

"Katie?"

Katie jerked upright, her eyes wide with shock. "Mr. Caldwell?"

Mr. Caldwell was standing beside her table, smiling good naturedly. "Katie, class ended about five minutes ago."

Katie glanced around. The room was completely empty. "Oh, Mr. Caldwell, I'm so sorry. I wasn't ignoring you or anything, I was just writing some things..." She gestured toward her notebook, the page almost black from her tiny handwriting.

Mr. Caldwell held up a hand. "Don't worry about it, Katie. I might be offended, if I weren't so painfully aware of your familiarity with the material. I hate to say it, but you probably know more about this stuff than I do."

Katie released a small laugh. "Maybe _about_ it. You're an actual retrocog. I'm just a bookworm."

"Don't belittle your talents," Mr. Caldwell said, and turned to head back to his desk. "The ability you have to research is a real talent, and something to be proud of. And as for Retrocognition, it's not exactly a widely applicable skill." He sighed and added in an undertone, "As a few of my coworkers adore pointing out."

Katie smiled, and moved to start packing her things. "Well, a few of your coworkers don't have room to talk," she said blandly. "Seeing as they're about as useful as a rotting log."

Mr. Caldwell looked sidelong at her. "Yes, well, while we're on the subject of Miss. Hammond..."

Katie crumpled back down into her seat. "Oh, no. Please. Can we just _never_ talk about her?"

"Oh trust me, I wish we could," he responded. "But the fact is that I have to work with the woman." He turned to face her. "I know she has all the warmth of a dead fish, but you only have to spend an hour and a half with her. Twice a week. With a few dozen other people for her to focus on instead of you."

Katie grimaced. "Yeah, okay, sorry. I imagine the teachers' lounge is no picnic."

Mr. Caldwell winced and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, no, not exactly, no. I've spent the last week listening to that woman complain about the insolent gnome she has in her class-"

"She called me a _gnome_?" Katie shrieked, sitting bolt upright.

"Katie. Please. We're focusing on me right now."

Katie couldn’t help but laugh. Mr. Caldwell was easily her favorite teacher, had been ever since his first class, where he referred to the course as ‘ESP for dummies.’ “I’m sorry, Mr. Caldwell. I’ll try harder to control myself in her class.” She couldn’t keep the slight mocking tone out of her voice, but she really meant it. She didn’t want to make his life harder. It was bad enough that she had to suffer.

Mr. Caldwell smirked. “You might look into just testing out of the class,” he said reasonably. “It’s not like you’re learning anything from her.”

“Well, no, but it’s a required course.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll never understand _why…_ and I’m on scholarship.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t cover testing out, I checked.”

Mr. Caldwell laughed. “I imagine if it did, you’d have graduated by now. But I was under the impression that you’d finally gotten yourself a job? A week or two should pay the fee.”

Katie’s eyebrows drew together. “How’d you…?” She rolled her eyes as he started to shrug. “Right. ESP.”

Mr. Caldwell laughed. “Yeah, yeah…or, you know, I might have _ears_. And it might interest you to know that a few of the Kinetic students are practically stalking that new kid. And, by extension, you.”

“Ugh…” Katie sighed. “I told him that would happen,” she mumbled. She heard movement and turned to see the next class filing into the room. “Thanks for the advice, Mr. Caldwell,” she said, grinning at him as she turned to grab her bag. “Until then, though, I will really try to control myself, promise.”

“What do you _mean_ ,” Joanne cried, marching briskly up to Katie, brandishing her cell. “that you’re _not in the library_?” She sounded almost frantic.

Katie blinked up at her friend. “Um…That I’m… _not_ in the library?” She held her hands out. “Clearly.”

They were standing in the middle of a pathway leading between the library and the Divination building toward the parking lot. She'd been on her way to meet Drew when Joanne messaged her, asking where she was. It hadn’t even occurred to her to tell her best friend that she had gotten the job, it seemed as though everyone else at the school already knew.

“But you’re _always_ in the library!” Joanne whined. “That’s where I can always find you when I wanna tell you stuff, _and I wanna tell you stuff!_ ”

“That’s right!” Katie gasped, freezing in her tracks and spinning to face her friend. “Your date with the mind reader!!”

Joanne started jumping up and down in excitement. Katie laughed. “So, how did it go?” she asked, although the answer was pretty obvious.

Joanne stopped jumping and grabbed Katie’s arms, her eyes wide with the importance of what she was about to say. “Katie…we talked about the zombie apocalypse.”

Katie gasped. “No!”

Joanne stepped closer, her eyes still impossibly wide. “He told me…that if I ever turned into a zombie…He’d let me eat his brain.”

Katie bit her lip and brought her hand to her chest. “That…is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said in a hushed voice.

“You two are such a trip.”

Katie turned, shocked to see Drew standing behind them shaking with barely contained laughter. She stuck her tongue out. “You just don’t understand true love,” she said petulantly.

Drew doubled over, unable to hold in his laughter any longer. Beside her, Joanne started to poke her in the shoulder. “So what’s this business about you having a _job_ all of a sudden? And why wasn’t I informed?” She was looking pointedly _away_ from Drew, very likely the only reason she was able to complete a full sentence.

Katie glanced over in disbelief. "Joanne, you were _there_ yesterday, right before Drew took me to the garage to apply. You were, like, the _first_ to be informed."

“Ok, first of all, you're lying. And second of all, even if you're not lying it doesn't count if you told me stuff when I obviously wasn't paying attention and was way too excited about my date,” she said. “And anyway, you were only supposed to be _applying,_ what, did you just let them hire you right on the spot? Without even _consulting_ me? I see how good a friend _you_ are.” She turned away, pouting.

“You were in the middle of your date with your soul mate!” Katie cried incredulously.

Joanne blinked. “Oh. Right. You have a point.” She huffed. “Well, you could have at least told me.”

“I’m really sorry,” Katie said, and meant it. “I didn't think about it. I’ve had a lot on my mind. And besides, I honestly thought you knew.”

“Well, I tried to tell you, but when you saw me you ran!” Drew said from the ground. Katie hadn’t noticed him sitting down; apparently his laughter left him too weak to stand. She was amused to see actual tears in his eyes. “I’m never going to manage an actual conversation with the two of you. When I’m not laughing hysterically, she can’t talk!”

“Well, where is it you’re working?” Joanne asked, her voice squeaking only slightly. Drew chuckled. “Maybe they’re still hiring? I could get a job there too, and then we could work together, and pretty soon we can move out of our parents’ places! What's the point in being legal adults if we can't have wild parties on a school night?"

“Parents?” Drew asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Katie winced. She’d never clarified what her ‘roommate’ problems were. “Adam and Mildred aren’t my parents,” she mumbled as Drew stood up. He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

“Oh, yes, I know,” Joanne said, waving her hand. “They’re the unholy pairing of the two most soul-crushing forces on earth sent to destroy your sanity. I’m the one who told you that, you don’t have to tell me. But anyway, where is your _job_?”

Katie gestured in a random direction. “It’s the garage right down the street, but-“ she had to raise her voice to her friend, who was skipping toward her car. “I don’t think they’re hiring, Joanne!”

Joanne paused. “That’s okay, I’ll come anyway! I need to tell you about my date!” She, of course, said all of this with her back still turned, since turning back would mean seeing Drew. It kept her from choking on her tongue, but now she just looked that much more insane.

“Joanne, You’re just gonna annoy my new boss!” Katie said to her retreating back. “And then you’ll get nauseous because he’s annoyed, and then I’ll have an annoyed boss while you’re puking, and _I’ll have to clean up the puke_ because that’s my job!” Katie’s voice continued to get louder as Joanne got further away.

And she clearly wasn’t listening. “I’ll meet you there!” she called over her shoulder.

Katie sighed and tossed a desperate look toward Drew, who was chuckling. “Don’t look at me,” he said, holding up his hands. “I left my straight jacket in my other car.”

“Back to work,” Rudy muttered grumpily.

But the others were transfixed, watching Joanne trailing Katie as she cleaned. Joanne was talking in an unending stream, and Katie was not only listening, but _responding_ as she breezed through the garage like a whirlwind. In her wake the tools and parts strewn around the room were not only clean, but organized, and yet she never missed a beat of her conversation with her friend.

“How on earth is that girl _breathing_?” Slim mumbled.

“I said _back to work_!” Rudy growled, throwing a wrench and just missing him.

Slim turned to Rudy with a frown, as Katie scooped up the fallen wrench and handed it back to him as she circuited the room once more.

Even Drew kept glancing at the two of them from the back lot, breaking down with laughter every time.

“And then he even walked me to my door, which I just thought was so sweet, and then he kissed me and it was _incredible_ , he’s such a good kisser, but then my dad started flashing the porch light, and I was like, what is this, nineteen-ninety five? Way to be vintage, dad.”

“Well, he always did like those old movies,” Katie said reasonably as she rapidly untangled a mess of wires. “He’s probably been waiting to pull that trick since you turned sixteen.”

“Yeah, well, it was just getting to the best part-“

“His hand was under your shirt?”

“Skirt.”

Katie’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow. Nice.”

“Well, you know, not really. My skirt was too long. But he was _getting_ there. And then the lights started blinking, and he jumped away like someone bit him! The moment was _totally_ ruined.” Joanne crossed her arms, pouting.

Katie laughed. “Well, I don’t know what you planned to do if the moment _hadn’t_ been ruined. It’s not like you would have taken him back up to your room, or have you finally replaced all that unicorn décor?”

Joanne’s eyes narrowed. “Shut. Up.”

“Kate, when you’re finished there, there’s a pile of tires in the back that need to get moved to the shed,” Rudy grunted, glaring at Slim, who was absently pretending to use a wrench against the car’s headlight as he stared at Joanne in wonder. “Just roll them, don’t try to stack them,” he added.

Katie nodded, blushing. Rudy hadn’t said anything when her friend came in with her, but she knew Joanne was distracting them. She stacked the wires she’d sorted neatly on the table and started toward the back.

Drew got back to his project car before she came into view, but he was still laughing. Katie glared at him as he tried to gain control of himself.

“I like your boss,” Joanne said, skipping after her. “He likes you, too. He thinks I’m funny, and he’s really impressed with you.”

Drew, still chuckling, raised an eyebrow at Joanne. “She do that a lot?” he asked Katie.

Katie smirked. “She can ‘just tell’ things,” she said in a mock serious tone.

Joanne stuck out her tongue. “However I’m able to tell, I’m still right.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Katie laughed, and turned toward the pallet of tires sitting against the outside wall.

“You need any help with that?” Drew called.

Katie waved “No! I’m the one they’re paying, you keep tinkering.”

“So…” Drew said, looking over at Joanne…who promptly squeaked and darted over to Katie. He laughed.

“Kate?”

Katie jumped, and turned to frown at Rudy in confusion. She was only about halfway through the pile of tires, and Joanne hadn’t said anything in almost…well, thirty seconds or so. Why would he be calling her?

“There’s a guy here for you?” he grunted, raising an eyebrow. “Someone named, eh, ‘Brandon’?”

All the color drained from Katie’s face. “What? No!” Drew’s head poked out from underneath the hood of his car as Katie glanced frantically at her watch. Six forty-five? How did _that_ happen?

“What?” Joanne cried, her hands on her hips. “Katie, don’t tell me you have a _date_! First the job, and now you’ve got _dates_ you’re not telling me about? Why am I suddenly the last to know anything?”

“I didn’t know about it either,” Drew said reasonably. He walked closer, careful to keep out of Joanne’s line of sight.

“No, it’s not-“ Katie faltered, extremely frazzled. “I didn’t-“

“Katie?” An unfamiliar male voice called from inside the garage.

Katie visibly shuddered.

“All kinds of _duck,_ ” she muttered darkly.

Drew stepped up behind Joanne. "All kinds of duck?" he whispered. He seemed to be able to talk to her as long as she couldn't see him

Joanne giggled “Katie doesn't like to curse," she whispered back, over her shoulder. "She has all kinds of weird substitutions, and that one is one of her worst ones. For her, it's like dropping the f-bomb,” she explained. “I guess the date wasn’t her idea.”

"She looks like she's walking towards her own execution…” Drew mumbled. He didn’t sound unhappy about it; as a matter of fact, he seemed almost satisfied.

Katie was about to pass by them on her way toward the garage, where the blind date had appeared at the back door. He wasn't bad looking, with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes, a light tan and a polo shirt with khaki pants, he couldn't look more clean cut American boy-next-door without an actual apple pie in his hand. But that didn't seem to comfort Katie at all.

"Hello!" Joanne called suddenly, startling everyone. She was waving toward the blind date. "I'm Joanne!"

He took it in stride however. "Hi there, I'm Brandon!" He responded, cordially. "I'm just here to pick Katie up for our date!"

"Ooh, really? _Can I come_?"

Katie turned to stare at her friend, who was all grins. Behind her Drew was biting both lips to keep from laughing.

"You mean like a double date?" Brandon asked.

"Sure!"

Katie scoffed. "Who would be your date??" she squeaked as quietly as she could.

And very carefully, without turning to look, Joanne reached behind her to grab Drew's hand.

"Not all Italian restaurants have breadsticks, Joanne." Katie said soothingly, reaching across the table to pat her friends hand.

"Well I just find that whole concept offensive." Joanne said, pouting,

Drew was shaking with suppressed laughter - he at least, seemed to be enjoying himself. He was less than impressed with Brandon's choice of restaurant - Katie figured it was the salad bar that threw him - but now that they were seated and Joanne was poking sullenly at the sugar dish, he seemed perfectly content.

Of course Katie was a nervous wreck, but when was she ever not?

"So do all three of you go to that psychic school?"Brandon asked politely. Katie blinked, shocked.

"Yeah, actually, do you?" Drew answered for her.

"Oh no, actually," Brandon said. "I'm interning with my father. He's a business analyst."

"Ooh, sounds exciting!" Joanne said, her tone completely serious. There were times when it was impossible to tell if she was joking or not.

If Brandon was surprised at her enthusiasm, he didn't show it. "Not really, it's really just crunching numbers," he said, as polite as ever.

"Crunching numbers? Crunching them how? You mean like the human psyche under the pressures of social and economic expectation...?" Joanne asked innocently.

That one finally threw him. "N-no...?" he stuttered.

"More like chips on a sandwich, I'd think," Drew suggested, clearly amused.

"Don't talk about chips right now, where's the bread?" Katie whined.

"They don't serve breadsticks here, Katie, we just went over this!" Joanne cried in mock outrage. She wasn't really trying to cause a scene, but the waiters were already starting to give their table a wide berth. Joanne tended to have that effect in restaurants.

Katie turned her attention back to Brandon, trying to be at least half as polite as he was being. "So are you the type of intern that gets paid?" she asked.

Brandon shook his head, "Very little. Are you the kind of psychic that moves things?"

"Only with my hand," Katie said dismissively. "No, I'm in the General class." She hesitated, then continued. "If you don't mind my saying, you seem a lot more comfortable with paranormal science than...well, Mildred..."

Brandon chuckled, looking a little sheepish. "Yeah, Mildred's soft spoken about it, but I think she's the most against it at our church. There are some others, but most of us are fine with the school."

Drew frowned. "I don't understand," he said, lifting his shoulders. "The Kinetics are the only ones who can do anything physical, and they can barely keep a bubble from popping."

"That's sounds cool actually," Brandon said. "Is that what you do?" he asked, nodding toward Drew.

"No, I'm a precog. So far I just do math and meditate," he said shaking his head.

"Precognition is based on statistics," Katie explained.

""I'm an Empath," Joanne supplied abruptly. "I see into your soul," she added, her voice intentionally eerie.

"Ok..." It took Brandon longer to rally after that one - He didn't seem to know what to do with Joanne's comments. ""Um, are there a lot of career opportunities for an education like that?"

"Well, there are a few. A lot of people are there for the novelty of it, but I'm really interested in the science." Katie was unable to keep the excitement out of her voice at the prospect. "I was hoping to work in one of the labs, or that involved experimenting. After all, I can't work in a garage forever!"

It was Drew who supplied the next question. "What do they do in the labs?

"I have no idea, but whatever it is, I bet it's _amazing_ ," Katie said, her eyes glittering.

"I bet their making psychic makeup!" Joanne piped up excitedly.

"What?" Katie stared across the table at her friend, torn between irritation and amusement.

"With power enhancing nano-particles!" she continued, her voice getting higher.

"Joanne..."

"Oh, oh, oh, gravity defying pants!!"

Katie glared at Drew. "Did you give her caffeine?"

"Double-bubble burp-a-cola?"

"And just what do you call that?"

Katie froze on the threshold. Mildred was poised by the dining room table, apparently waiting for her to get home. Her hands were on her shapeless hips and she was practically seething.

Katie glanced around herself, extremely confused. "The...the door?"

"Just who were those people with you on your date with Brandon?" Mildred asked accusingly.

Katie's jaw dropped. She had _just_ gotten back from that fiasco. How on earth could she know anything about it?

Katie took her time closing the door. The sensation sweeping over her was completely unfamiliar and mildly unpleasant. It was a freezing wave that started in her chest and radiated out, leaving her numb and breathless. It wasn't a weak feeling like her anxiety, or a burning feeling like anger. This was more intense, focused and overwhelming. If she had to guess, she'd call it rage.

Because the only way for Mildred to know anything about that date is if she had _been there_.

The Duck Lady! All night Joanne had been pestering Drew about the 'Duck Lady', and never does Mildred's profile more resemble a duck's than when she's sitting in an armless chair.

The entire night. The entire night Mildred had been sitting at the next table, spying on her.

When she turned back around Mildred had some sort of reaction to her expression, but she wasn't paying attention. "That was my friend and her date," she said sharply. "You commanded me on a blind date, but that didn't stop me from setting the terms." Not even close to how it actually happened, but there was absolutely no reason Mildred ever had to know that.

It's a good thing Adam arrived to sooth her, because by the look on Mildred's face, there was a distinct chance she would either have exploded or transformed into an extremely jowly werewolf. "Brandon..." she began, choked, and began again. "Brandon is a good Christian boy!" she shrieked.

"So he can't go on a double date?" Just what exactly did this woman think they were doing?

"It did seem pretty innocent." Adam said soothingly. Of course he was there too. Surprised they didn't stand out more when Mildred generally ordered off the kid's menu to save money. Adults demanding crayons for their placemats tended to be memorable.

"That's not the point!" Mildred cried, even though that had clearly been the point moments ago. "She was supposed to be getting aquainted with _Brandon_ , dating _Brandon_ , going steady with _Brandon_ -"

"It didn't work." Katie cut her off harshly.

"What?"

"Your masterful plan," she clarified, her eyes flashing. "It didn't work. I don't like Brandon. I don't want to date Brandon. I don't want to date anyone from your _congregation_ , I don't want to date anyone, _period_." She skirted the two of them, who were both frozen in shock. "I'm here to _study_ ," she finished as she passed, and stomped off to her room.

Rudy still got customers on Saturday – though, less than you would think – but never at eight o’clock in the morning. Who got up that early on a Saturday? Seriously?

He generally used that time to catch up on paperwork, or organize the bench. Today he was stuck with paperwork, Katie had taken care of absolutely everything that needed organizing the day before.

But he was shocked when he looked up and saw a woman standing in the doorway from his office to the empty garage.

“Can I help you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

The woman grinned. Rudy had never seen a human being who looked so much like a bulldog before in his life. “Yes, hello there! I’m Mildred Campbell, I understand you just hired my step-daughter.”

Rudy tried not to smile at the sound of her voice. Probably because of her resemblance to large floppy canines, he’d been expecting a much deeper voice. Her voice was more high-pitched and squeaky, and falsely sweet.

“Nice to meet you. What do you want?” he said gruffly, turning back to his papers.

“Well, I can see I was right about where Katie’s foul attitude is coming from all of a sudden,” Mildred muttered, and stepped closer to his desk.

Rudy frowned. He didn’t like how this woman just invaded his personal space without any consideration. “Lady, I’ve got a business to run.You can either tell me what you want, or you can leave. I’m not particular.”

She pursed her lips. It was hard to tell, her mouth was so small, but there was a distinct puckering in her jowls. “Well, I’m just trying to express some interest in my step-daughter’s life. You know, she was just so excited that she _finally_ got a job.”

She put an extreme emphasis on ‘finally’. Rudy figured she was trying to get at something, but wasn’t all that concerned. He just grunted in response.

Mildred hesitated, but continued. “You know, she’s been looking for months? She’s done so many interviews without getting hired, I’d just started to think it was something about her that made her undesirable as an employee!” She tittered, as though that was meant to be funny.

Rudy shrugged. “Their loss.”

Apparently she wasn’t getting the reaction she wanted. “I noticed you’re right down the street from that school of hers…” she said, leaning forward, her expression imploring.

Rudy grunted.

“Did you _know_ she was attending that…erm, _school_?” Mildred asked, stepping closer.

Rudy looked up and glared at her. She took a step back, and he turned back to his papers. “She told me before I hired her,” he said simply.

“And you’re okay with that?” Mildred asked, her eyebrows drawn together in shock.

Rudy raised an eyebrow without looking up. “Shouldn’t I be?”

“Well, I’m not one to judge,” Mildred blustered. “It’s just that there are a lot of people who seem to think that what they’re doing in that…” She seemed to have trouble saying the word. “ _school_ is, well, unnatural. I’d hate for your business to suffer just because you employ one of their students.”

“Is that so?” Rudy was looking right at her now, his papers forgotten, his eyes starting to narrow dangerously.

“Like I said, I don’t like to judge,” she continued. “It’s just, a number of people who are part of my church have told me that they just could not fathom shopping at a business that supported this ‘psychic’ nonsense.” The expression she gave him after that was one of selfless concern.

Rudy grunted.

Mildred was used to that by now, and carried on without pausing. “And I mean, you really can’t blame them. There’s no way of knowing what they may get up to, and it’s just not safe to hire someone when you can’t be sure what they’re capable of!”

“So you're trying to tell me that Kate is dangerous?” Rudy asked blandly, raising both eyebrows.

“Oh, no, I’m not saying that at all!” Mildred squeaked, holding up both hands, eyes wide. “I’m just saying _some_ people, well, they may think she is. Anyone going to that school, really. I mean, do you know what they can do?” She lowered her voice, as if someone might over hear her.

“A little bit.” Which was undoubtedly still more than this woman knew. He had just about had enough of her simpering.

“Well, it just makes me a little uncomfortable,” Mildred said, shaking her head. “I try to be understanding, I don’t want to judge anyone, but when someone can read minds, or see the future, or, god forbid, see through walls?” She shuddered delicately. “Well, it’s upsetting just living with her. I imagine a business owner like yourself, who has so much invested in his career wouldn’t want to take such a nasty risk, hiring someone who could be so unpredictable.”

Rudy frowned and got to his feet. He was considerably taller than the dumpy woman, and when he stepped closer to invade _her_ personal space, he was certain he seemed threatening. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get me to fire Kate,” he grumbled.

“Oh, no, I just wanted to warn you-“ Mildred started to say in a sweet tone of voice, but Rudy cut her off.

“Which I’m sure isn’t the case, since it would be pretty horrible of you to be trying to get your own stepdaughter fired,” he said, continuing to advance on her, herding her out of his office.

“Well, I’m _not,_ ” she squeaked defensively.

Rudy ignored her. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t seem like the kind of woman who’s ever run a business?”

She was starting to turn red. “Well, no, not personally-“ she said, shaking her head.

Rudy didn’t let her finish. “Then I kindly request that you refrain from telling me how to run mine.”

Mildred gasped. “That’s not what I was trying to do!” she whined defensively.

“Well, you did," Rudy grunted. “And furthermore, _I_ don’t have a problem with psychics the way you seem to.”

“I don’t – I didn’t – That’s not what I meant!” Mildred sputtered. Then she began to wag her finger at him, attempting to take back the offensive. “And just because _you’re_ alright with psychics-“

"And no one at _my_ church has a problem with them either." He didn't even blink at her wagging finger.

She froze, her mouth popping open in shock. "You do not go to _church_!" she squeaked in utter disbelief.

"Every Sunday."

"Well," she blustered, "it must not be much of a _church_ if they can possibly support-"

Again, Rudy cut her off. “Anyone who has a problem with Kate is more than welcome to take their business elsewhere. I don’t support persecution in this building.” He nodded toward the doorway. They had reached the edge of the garage. “So feel free to leave.”

Mildred huffed. "Well, that's just fine!" she cried, straightening her jacket with a jerk. "I wouldn't want to stay _anyway_!" she practically shrieked before turning on her heel and stomping off.

Rudy took a deep breath and shook his head. There was no way _that_ wasn't gonna bite him in the ass later. He sighed and turned to walk back to his office.


	3. 103 - Just call me "Necessity"...MWAHAHAHA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, here's the thing, I've never been great at titles. This was supposed to be a pun, and it turns out very few people make the connection, so it's totally on the table for me to change the title. Anyway, the joke is, since Necessity is the mother of invention, Katie is the mother of invention.
> 
> Katie overhears a conversation between the Dean and a mysterious stranger, and is inspired to do MAD SCIENCE.

** 103 – Just call me “Necessity”…MWAHAHAHA! **

** **

“Katie, would you like some more eggs?” Joanne’s mother leaned over Katie’s shoulder as her father got up to leave for work.

The Myers’ apartment was roughly the size of a shoebox. Two bedrooms and one bathroom took up half of it, with a living room, kitchen and breakfast area taking up the other. The entire place, about seven hundred square feet, could easily fit in Adam and Mildred’s living room. And yet she was more comfortable at their cramped little table than she would be on opposite sides of the coliseum with Mildred.

Katie had promised to come to Joanne’s house for breakfast, and give her the play-by-play of the after dinner show they had both predicted. And she certainly wasn't about to turn down an offer of a decent meal. She didn’t have to eat cardboard to be sure that Mildred’s ‘100% natural whole wheat pancakes!’ were 100% corrugated .

“Oh, no, Mrs. Myers, really I’m fine.” She shook her head. She’d already had two helpings. There was nothing Mrs. Myers loved more than feeding people.

She pursed her lips. “I’m gonna make you some more eggs,” she said resolutely. “You’re too skinny. You both are. You should eat more.”

“I know, right?” Joanne cried, taking her stomach into her hands and squishing it so she looked much larger than she actually was. “Mom, how could you let me get so emaciated?”

Mrs. Myers had no idea how little she'd actually been eating lately, ever since moving in with Adam and Mildred. And with any luck, she never would know. Katie watched Ms. Meyers crack an egg into the frying pan, and swallowed thickly. Besides, now that she finally had a job she could supplement her diet with non-perishables in her room.

Joanne kicked her under the table. “So the Duck Lady was the Roommate all along?” she asked, once she had her attention.

Katie nodded. “Yes, they were spying on us, can you believe it?”

“I'm not surprised Adam was, he’s an evil bastard and he has _way_ too much influence over your life.” She wagged her fork at her, before moving it back to her plate and spearing a piece of pancake.

Katie laughed. “Adam’s not evil. Adam is an idiot. _Mildred_ is evil.”

“Mildred isn’t evil either; she’s just a vindictive, controlling cow,” Joanne growled, her ferocity somewhat diminished by the mouthful of pancake.

Katie raised her eyebrow. “Has the definition of evil changed recently?”

Joanne narrowed her eyes. “ _Hammond_ is evil,” she said meaningfully. 

“I’ll give you that one,” Katie said, tilting her head and nodding once. “But her, at least, I won’t have to deal with for much longer.”

Joanne perked up. “Yeah, it’s just this semester’s course that’s required, right?”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. I mean like this week. Mister Caldwell suggested it yesterday; now that I have a job I can save up some money and test out of her class.” Katie leaned back as Mrs. Myers appeared, sliding a pile of scrambled eggs from the pan directly onto her plate.

“Oh, you _suck_!” Joanne gasped. “I can’t believe you’re abandoning me to that class!”

“So what’s the big deal about this Hammond woman?” her mom asked as she turned to set the frying pan back on the stove.

Joanne wrinkled her nose. “Oh, only just that she’s a complete and total-“

“Joanne, language!” Mrs. Myers said, frowning at her daughter. 

She lifted her chin. “I was going to say heifer,” she said, attempting to sound dignified.

“You know, you keep calling her a cow, but she looks more like a frog to me,” Katie said through a mouthful of her eggs. Really, she wasn’t that hungry but…they were so good! 

Mrs. Myers looked back and forth between them. “So what is she doing that’s so heifer-frog-like?” she asked, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

Katie shook her head. “It’s hard to explain,” she said, frowning. “It’s just a lot of little, weird things that pile up. She got mad at me for reading ahead, for one thing.”

Mrs. Myers sat down across from them, frowning. “Well, that _is_ an odd thing to get mad about. I don’t know about _evil_ though.”

Joanne’s eyes widened. “Oh, _she’s evil_ , mom. I promise you,” she said, very seriously.

Katie stabbed a piece of egg, growling. “She’s just so _boring_!” she muttered. “And if anyone brings up something that might disrupt her being boring, she squashes it like it's a bug that she can eat because she's a boring frog who refuses to discuss anything interesting!”

“Interesting like how?" Mrs. Myers asked.

Katie blushed. “Well, I dunno. Things like Techno kinesis, for one."

Joanne raised her eyebrows. “Techno kinesis? I thought that was one of the ones that was legit fake?”

“Oh, it is,” Katie said, nodding. “But I really feel like it’s worth looking into developing types of technology to interact with psychic powers, and I thought that would open up the conversation...”

“Yeah, I think you mentioned that before.” Joanne pointed her fork at her. “You were saying there were studies about drunk people, or something?” She moved her fork back to her plate and shoveled the last bit of pancake into her mouth.

Katie grinned. “Scientists were determining a person’s level of intoxication by how their ambient energy behaved,” she said, her voice mild.

“Right, and you wanted to build a cell that could detect that, right?” she mumbled around her food.

Katie threw her hands up in the air. “Drunk texting would be a thing of the past!” she cried excitedly.

“It’s revolutionary!” Joanne jumped out of her seat, mimicking Katie’s excitement.

“We’ll change the world!” Katie squealed.

Mrs. Myers laughed as the two of them jumped up and down around the table, nearly choking on a mouthful of grapefruit. (Katie thought it was hilarious that she always made such a big deal about feeding them, but only ever had half a grapefruit for breakfast herself.) “Well, why don’t you?” she asked.

Katie paused in her jumping. “Change the world? Shouldn’t you save the unrealistic expectations for your daughter?”

“Hey, now!” Joanne pouted, stopping as well.

She laughed. “No, why don’t you build a cell like that? You’re a very smart girl, Katie.”

Joanne glared. “Thanks, mom,” she said drily.

Mrs. Myers wrinkled her nose. She looked ridiculously like her daughter when she did that. “Don’t be petty, Joanne, you’re empathic. And it’s not a contest.”

Katie sank back down into her seat. “Well, I don’t even know where I would start.”

“Well, I imagine things like that start with research and experiments.” She stood up, holding her plate and what was left of her grapefruit. “Of course, I don’t know anything about psychic powers, so that’s about as much advice as I can give you,” she said over her shoulder as she headed toward the sink. She blinked when she saw Katie’s newly emptied plate. “Would you like more eggs, though? Or some sausage? I can give you _those_ without a problem.”

Katie hesitated. She was extremely full, but she didn’t want to say no. “Uh…could I get some in a tortilla?” she asked. _That_ she could take with her and eat later.

Mrs. Myers grinned. “One breakfast burrito coming up. You should eat that pancake, too. You really are far too skinny, Katie, it’s like you’re barely eating anymore.”

Joanne had to stifle a giggle. She was fully aware of the quality of Mildred’s cooking.

Katie looked around frantically. Why was the registrar’s office completely deserted? _There was no one here!_

She groaned and started pacing through the building. It wasn’t life or death, but her next class started in less than an hour, and she really needed to talk to someone about testing out of Intro to PST. She didn’t have the money yet, of course, but as long as she was sure she could test out of Hammond’s class there was nothing to keep her from skipping it until she did. Dropping that class like the hot brick it was, would save not only her sanity but about an hour at the end of every Tuesday and Thursday. And she could think of plenty of better ways to use that time. Chinese water torture, for instance.

They couldn’t all be at _lunch_! It was ten in the morning!

She was leaning over the counter to see if everyone was just hiding under their desks (it honestly wouldn’t surprise her) when she heard voices drifting from the end of the hallway. She glanced around. Technically, she wasn’t allowed down the hall, since it was behind the counter. And everything behind the counter was completely and 100% off limits. She only had to be told _that_ six or seven times.

Katie glanced around again. There was no one to tell her that _now_ …and really, who could prove anyone ever had? She was just an innocent student who was looking for information!

She hoisted herself onto the counter, and hesitated as her feet dangled into forbidden territory. She wasn’t a rule-breaker. Well, not _really_.

The voices started to get louder, and her curiosity got the better of her. She hopped down and wove her way toward the hallway. 

“Is it really that bad?” Keiko Yoshida, Dean of the Institute for Paranormal Science and the world’s leading Precog, frowned worriedly at her oldest friend. He wasn’t known (at least, to his close friends) for his honesty, but he had never lied to her. 

Walter Everette sighed and stopped pacing, sinking into one of the seats facing her desk. “Not yet. But it will be.”

Keiko raised an eyebrow. “The last time I checked, senshi, I was the precog.”

“I’m not your senshi, and I’m not stupid, either,” Walter grumbled at her. “I don’t need to see the future to make this prediction, anyone with any common sense can see what’s developing.”

“Common sense is rarer than the name implies,” Keiko said drily. “How many does he have now?” 

“Over a hundred.”

Keiko whistled, her eyebrows shooting up. “They’re not all as powerful as him.” It wasn’t a question, she knew they weren’t.

Walter shook his head. “No, thank goodness. But they’re a lot more capable than anyone we have on our side.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “Don’t forget, _Malcolm_ is the one with the most knowledge of exactly how psychic powers work. He was our Rosetta stone, and he left before we knew everything he did.”

Keiko’s expression was bland. “Things would have been far worse if he hadn’t left when he did. He had become completely unhinged.”

“Well, for a guy totally off his rocker, he’s done a pretty decent job single handedly building a seedy criminal organization,” he said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

Keiko smirked. “You’re thinking of a different kind of crazy,” she said. She sat up straighter, frowning at him. “What did you say they were calling themselves?”

Walter lifted a shoulder. “The Underground, apparently,” he muttered.

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Keiko asked. 

He shook his head. “As far as they're concerned, it's just what they call themselves. But there's one other thing," he said, giving her a significant look "I've heard individuals call themselves " _Products_ of the Underground".”

Keiko sighed. “Not the most original, I'll grant you.” She tilted her head. “But they haven’t escalated into violent crimes.” Again, it wasn’t a question. Keiko was eerie that way.

“No, mostly theft and petty thuggery,” Walter answered with a quick nod. “But it’s only a matter of time. You know that, Keiko.”

She grimaced. “I do know. They’re gaining power too quickly, as well as numbers.”

“And we’re not building our own numbers fast enough to control theirs,” Walter completed her thought. “Do you think he’ll keep control or a handle on them?”

Keiko shook her head. “I don’t think his goal is power, I think it’s chaos. It won’t matter in the slightest to him whether these criminals he’s breeding are kept under control.”

Walter looked away. “That’s what I was afraid of.” His voice was quiet.

Keiko looked sincerely apologetic. “There are too many factors involved in this, senshi, I’m not going to be able to give you a good estimate of the outcome.”

“I’m not looking for a rock solid strategy, Keiko,” he said. “You’re powerful, I know, but again; I’m not stupid. Not even you can unravel something of this magnitude in a sitting.”

Keiko raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

Walter chuckled. “Certainly not. I need advice, and of everyone I know, you’re the best equipped to give it. Whether or not you do is completely up to you.”

Keiko eyed him for a moment, before settling back into her chair. “Give me the options you can think of, and I’ll run the numbers,” she said.

“Well, obviously, the first that comes to mind is psychic criminals overrunning the streets. They would bring the entire world under their control, since the only people capable of stopping them are other criminals.” His tone was utterly deadpanned. 

Keiko’s face tensed as she fought a smile. He had a way of talking about horrible things like he was ordering a cup of coffee, and when he did it was nearly impossible for her to keep a straight face. “Obviously.” She matched his deadpan tone. “But we’re looking at how to _stop_ that from happening, correct? Why depress ourselves?”

He smirked. “Well, what if we manage to find a way to match the criminals somehow, despite their growing numbers? The problem I see, however is the general populace and their perception of psychic powers.” For the first time in their conversation, he looked troubled. He seemed to finally have touched on the possibility that had him the most worried.

Keiko, however, was worried about something else. “You want numbers regarding popularity?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Walter sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Too many are unsure as it is, seeing criminals abusing those powers - even if we find a way to fight them - could turn public opinion against us.” He looked up at her, his face serious. “That could be _just_ as dangerous as these criminals.” 

Keiko frowned. “Anything else, while your expectations are still unreasonable?” she drawled, heedless of his worry.

Walter’s mouth quirked up in a small smile before falling again. “I’m sorry, Keiko, I know how difficult it is for you to look into something of this scale. But since you asked, yes.” He leaned forward as Keiko glared at him. “Is there any chance that one of our institutes will develop a way to control this situation before it gets out of hand?”

Keiko continued to glare at him. “It’s too early for this,” she grumbled. He smiled, but didn’t bother to respond. She was already settling herself; she wouldn’t hear anything he said anyway.

Very rarely would anyone be able to tell when Keiko was examining the future. She was calm, her face serene, almost as though she was meditating. Others might grit their teeth, clench their fists or hold their heads. But Keiko never looked as though she was contemplating anything more complicated than what to make for dinner.

Except every once and a while, when she was in the middle of a particularly impressive exercise of precognition, her hair would start to float. Not like she was underwater or anything, more like she’d set her hand on one of those electrostatic generators they have at the museum of natural science.

Her hair was standing nearly straight out right now, and it was making Walter nervous. She would have a headache for days, and he would pay for it.

Her eyes still closed, her hair still floating, Keiko opened her mouth to speak. “The most likely course is our being overrun,” she said quietly.

Walter cursed.

“He hasn’t started to teach his followers the methods they need to know to train others,” Keiko continued. “But if he does the likelihood of us avoiding the flood will diminish to less than one percent.” Her head tilted very slightly. “If he doesn’t, he still has a head start. Going as he is now, so long as he continues without interruption, our odds of avoiding a serious infestation of criminals is thirty-four percent.”

“The odds of him continuing as he is now?” Walter said quietly. He’d found out the hard way a long time ago that if anyone made any loud noises while she was like this, Keiko would jolt out of wherever she was and there would be sweet, undiluted hell to pay for whoever did it.

“Seventy-no…forty-three percent.” Keiko frowned. “Something is changing.”

Walter’s eyebrows lifted. “That was a good change, so I guess I’ll cross my fingers. Is there a chance we’ll manage to contain it?”

Keiko was still frowning. “The…the odds that we will find a way to contain it are two percent.” She opened her eyes, and her hair began to settle. “Don’t worry too much, senshi. I’m…I’m _sure_ it will all turn out alright.”

He eyed her. “ _How_ sure?”

Keiko lifted a shoulder. “I’d say about forty-five percent sure.” She smiled. “Better odds than Vegas.”

Walter smiled. “Unless _you’re_ playing there.”

“You’re the one who got me banned, aren’t you?” Keiko said accusingly, her smile vanishing and replaced with a glare.

His eyes widened. “Well, I’d better get going,” he said, standing up rapidly.

Katie jumped back as the Dean’s door started to open. Before her stood a tall, distinguished black gentleman, with closely trimmed, graying hair, a full beard, glasses and a neat three-piece suit.

“I knew it was you,” the Dean, Miss Yoshida, called after the man – was his name Senshi? No, he had said he _wasn’t_ her senshi – as he stood in her doorway. “I’ll get you for that.”

Katie thought for a moment about making a run for it, but there was no way she’d make the counter before they saw her. She backed up until she hit the wall, her eyes wide.

“Please, Keiko, you made more than enough money in the three years before I cut you off. And what you were doing was clearly cheating.” He froze in his tracks when he caught sight of Katie.

“Oh, and the casinos aren’t?” Miss Yoshida snorted. She appeared at his side a moment later, seeming confused that he had stopped. She was a tiny little Asian woman, (particularly compared to the gentleman, she came a full three inches shy of his shoulder in height) she had a very sensible 'mom' style bob haircut and a simple dress and jacket.

“Yes?” The man directed his question at Katie.

Behind her back, Katie pinched her wrist hard. This must be how Joanne felt around Drew. “I’m, um-“ She cleared her throat. “There was no one at the counter and…and I heard voices…I was about to knock.”

Miss Yoshida raised her eyebrow. “It’s Monday, isn’t it? They don’t get in until noon.”

Katie’s eyes widened. “I didn’t…the door was open, I just assumed.”

The Dean rolled her eyes and elbowed the man hard in the ribs. “I must have forgotten to lock the doors after I let _you_ in,” she grumbled.

The man winced and rubbed his side. “Well, nothing we can do about it now,” he said. He turned back to Katie. “What were you here for?”

“I just wanted some information about testing out of a course,” Katie said weakly. 

They both looked shocked. “You want to test out of a course?” the man asked.

“What, is that not possible?” she, to her embarrassment, squeaked. “One of my teachers suggested it. I was sure I’d seen the option somewhere.”

The man still appeared to be speechless, and Miss Yoshida nudged him out of the way. “The CLEP tests _are_ available, but no one at this school has ever requested one. What class did you want to test out of?” 

“Introduction to Paranormal Scientific Theory.” 

The man started laughing. “I could have guessed that one.”

“That’s the one with that frog-faced woman?” Miss Yoshida asked.

“Hammond,” the man supplied. “I’ve never seen a woman with that serious a case of penis envy in my life.”

Miss Yoshida rolled her eyes. “It’s not your penis she’s jealous of,” she said drily. “It’s your telekinesis.”

“Tomato, to-mah-to,” he said. It seemed to be an expression, but Katie had no idea what it meant. “The point is, she’s crazy, and there’s no way anyone is going to convince her to let this girl test out.”

Katie frowned, suddenly quite alert, her embarrassment forgotten. “Wait, I need her permission?”

Miss Yoshida skirted around the man and headed down the hall. “I think I actually know where the form is,” she muttered as she went.

Katie wanted to tell her not to bother. On what planet would Hammond ever give up torturing her? But it was the _Dean_ , for goodness sake. How do you say something like that to a Dean?

“I have a better idea, why don’t you fire her?” The man winked at Katie, and she blushed. “She’s an intellectual terrorist,” he added, following after her. 

Miss Yoshida bent to rifle around in a desk near the counter. “You know as well as I do it’s not that simple. You can’t just fire someone because they’re unpleasant. She would have to commit a crime or do something to warrant termination. And it’s the middle of the semester. _And_ we don’t have a replacement.”

“Stop bothering me with logic,” he muttered darkly. 

Miss Yoshida smirked at him as she stood straight, holding a sheet of paper. She handed the paper to Katie. “Just get your teacher to sign this, and bring it here with the fee. When they’re actually open, of course. They’ll schedule the test for you then.”

Katie took the paper hesitantly. What was she supposed to do with it? Ask nicely for a signature?

Ha. Right. Hammond would be more likely to set the paper on fire right in front of her than to actually sign it.

“Thank you,” she said anyway. Maybe she could use it for a different class. Or forge Hammond’s signature.

“You’re very welcome. And good luck.” For the first time since she had caught sight of Katie, the Dean smiled. Then she glanced over at her friend. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m in desperate need of some coffee, and aspirin.” She smiled again at Katie, and waved her ahead of them, toward the exit.

“Oh, of course. And thank you for your help,” Katie said as she was ushered out the door.

“No problem. And I sincerely hope you succeed.”

Katie frowned. Fat chance.

Katie eyed the pile of books she was accumulating, stacked haphazardly across her favorite table. It wasn’t _too_ big of a pile. She could probably get it to Drew’s car on her own, which was the important thing.

Unfortunately, most of the books she needed to look through weren’t available for download to her tablet. It was mostly just inconvenient, really. If she didn’t have her job, it wouldn’t be that big of an issue. She was more than used to spending hours in the library, and even a pile this big wouldn’t take her more than five or six hours of solid reading to finish.

But no way was she going to give up her job. So, for the first time, she was going to check an _actual_ physical book from the library. Several, in fact. Dozens, even.

“I can’t believe you’re actually in the library!” Joanne’s voice sounded from behind her.

Katie turned, grinning. “Just because I have a job doesn’t mean I’ve stopped reading!” she said, laughing. Her eyes widened in surprise when she noticed her friend wasn’t alone. A tall, kind of skinny guy was standing next to her. His hair was light brown and messy and he had glasses, but he was clean shaven and his eyes were a bright blue. Despite a hint of geekishness, he oozed confidence. “Who’s this?” she asked.

He stepped closer, holding out his hand. “Hi, I’m Adrian. Joanne talks about you all the time.” He smirked. “Honestly I was expecting a bigger head.”

“I believe you,” she said, shooting a glare toward Joanne. “So what are you two doing here?”

Joanne started to jump up and down. “We’re here because you’ll _never_ guess who showed up to our Empathy class today!” she said rapidly.

Katie raised an eyebrow. “That’s and odd reason to be here.”

Joanne ignored her. “It was Walter Everette!” she squealed.

Katie gasped. “Dude, no way!”

She stopped jumping, and reached out to grab Katie’s hands. “Completely way, and he was so cool!” she said, yanking at Katie’s arms. “He’s like the coolest old person I’ve ever seen!”

Adrian laughed. “She’s just saying that because he majorly buttered up the empaths,” he said.

By now Joanne had her in a vice-like hug. Katie frowned in confusion over her friend’s shoulder at Adrian. “Buttered them up?”

Adrian grinned. “Apparently, we’re amazing,” he said.

Katie’s eyebrows shot up. “ _Walter Everette_ thinks you’re amazing? No wonder you like him.”

Joanne jumped back. “No, that’s not it!” she said, pouting.

“Right,” Katie said sarcastically.

“It’s not! He was really funny too,” Joanne insisted. “He’s all grey-haired and dapper with a beard and a suit and all, when he came in I completely thought ‘Oh, boring guest speaker, wish I brought a pillow.’ But then he was so cool and funny!”

Katie frowned. “Grey-haired with a beard?” she asked.

Joanne nodded. “Yeah, and a suit. It was like this three-piece deal, so when he took the jacket off there was this vest on underneath.” 

“I almost expected him to pull out a pipe. Would have been hilarious,” Adrian said, chuckling.

Joanne was still talking rapidly. “And you know, I hate to admit it 'cause he’s old and all, but he was pretty hot. Like, serious dreamboat,” she said all in one breath. She stopped when she noticed Katie looking distant, and frowned when she suddenly sat down in one of the chairs around the table. “Katie? You okay?”

She shook her head. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, looking up. “But I think I met him too.”

Joanne jumped back. “No way!! And you didn’t tell me?” she practically shrieked. Adrian shushed her, and she elbowed him in the ribs.

Katie held up her hands. “I didn’t know it was him! I went to the academic offices this morning to see about testing out of Hammond’s class, and he was there! But the Dean didn’t call him Walter or Mr. Everette or anything, she called him Senshi,” she said, lifting her shoulders.

Adrian frowned. “Senshi?”

Katie nodded. “Yeah, I looked it up, since it seemed to be a different language,” she said. “Turns out its Classic Japanese for Warrior.”

“Weird,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“I know,” she said, her eyes widening.

But Joanne was unimpressed, and still pouting. “Also, just a refresher, I HATE that you get to test out.”

Adrian slung an arm around her shoulders. “Well, why don’t you test out too?” he asked with a small squeeze.

Joanne remained obstinately sulky. “Uh, because I’m not a walking encyclopedia, like _some_ people I know.” She narrowed her eyes at Katie.

“Oh, un-bunch your panties,” Katie muttered, waving her off. “I won’t be able to test out, either.”

Sullenness forgotten, Joanne dropped her crossed arms and looked genuinely concerned. “What? Why not?”

Katie curled her lip. “I need her _permission,_ ” she ground out.

“Oh. _lame_ ,” she gasped.

Katie shook her head. “Yeah, well, that’s not even the big news. You’ll never guess what I overheard the Dean and Mr. Everette _talking_ about.” She leaned closer and, whispering, described the conversation she had heard in the Dean’s office that morning.

“Wow. I didn’t even know Dean Yoshida was a precog,” Adrian remarked.

Joanne’s eyes were wide her expression utterly shocked. “That sounds pretty serious, Katie.”

Katie nodded, “Yeah, I know,” she said, turning toward her collection of books and rearranging them so they stacked neatly. “Meanwhile, the kinetics are sitting on their thumbs, playing with their makeup and thinking everything is peachy because they can twiddle their fingers and make a leaf dance.”

"And so your reaction to this is to clean out the library?" Joanne asked, as Katie started to check out her books with the library’s portable scanner.

Katie sighed. “Ok, I know it’s going to sound stupid, or conceited – at least it kind of does in my head – 

Adrian jumped in with a mischievous grin. "You were thinking of one of your brilliant ideas that no one seems to listen to right when the Dean's prediction changed from bad to better, and now you're hoping that by following one of your ideas to its fruition you'll save the psychic community as we know it?" He ended it as a question, but looked wholly confident in his accuracy.

Katie gaped and Joanne giggled. "It's eerie, right?"

"But I didn't even tell you that the prediction changed!" Katie blurted finally.

Adrian folded his hands together. "Please, _please_ tell me you're working toward a psychic ray gun."

Katie shook herself, still affected by Adrian's performance. It was a lot easier to understand how he could have fooled an entire class into believing he could read minds. "Well, that's what the books are for. I'm not sure yet what I'm going to do, just that I'm going to do something, and it's going to be an invention."

"Like your cell idea!" Joanne cried. 

"Exactly! But I'll probably have to start smaller."

“Ok,” Adrian held up a hand. “But once you do, what do you plan to do with it?”

“Well, she could patent it,” Joanne said optimistically. “That’s a thing, right?”

Katie laughed. “A very expensive thing, yes. But I’m not that concerned about patenting or marketing or anything like that. I actually just figured, once I had a working prototype of something, I’d show it to Mr. Everette.”

“Walter Everette isn’t exactly the easiest guy to get a hold of,” Adrian said, sounding skeptical.

“Well, I have to invent something first any-“ Katie began, but Joanne started jumping and clapping frantically. “Joanne, are you okay?”

“What about the Pageant?” she squeaked.

Katie’s eyes widened. IPS’s annual Psychics Presentation - or the Pageant, as it’s known to the students – was held at the beginning of the new year, before the spring semester started. On paper, any student in attendance at IPS was allowed an opportunity to present whatever skills they had learned to an audience of thousands. That is, the stadium seats thousands and anyone could attend, but it was usually just faculty, other students and maybe a few scientists. 

Of course, in reality it was a way for the Kinetics to show off. It’s hard to ‘present’ a skill like empathy or divination, and the Kinetics got so flashy no one else even bothered to try anymore. The thought alone of getting on a stage next to the Kinetics was enough to give Katie nightmares.

But… Walter Everette _did_ make it a point to attend every pageant.

“Are you even allowed to present an invention?” Katie muttered.

“You can do _whatever_ you want, so long as it’s directly related to psychic powers,” Joanne said matter-of-factly. 

Katie made a face. “The pageant is only three months from now, though,” she said. “I don’t know if I’ll have something put together that quick.” But she looked excited. If she _could_ manage to invent something by then, the pageant would be a _perfect_ way to present it.

“Where will you be doing the experiments and whatnot?” Adrian asked, breaking through her thoughts.

Katie shook her head, and shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.” She leaned over to slide her books into her arms. With her arms fully extended, they reached her chin. Maybe she _had_ overdone it just a bit. “Listen, I gotta get to work, okay? I’ll see you later,” she grunted.

“Do you need help with that?” Adrian moved closer.

Katie grunted. “No, I’m good.”

Joanne frowned as Katie moved toward the doors. “Ok, I’ll see you. And you know, _bug you incessantly_ because we never _talk_ anymore!” she called.

Katie’s grin was strained. “What? That’s what we were just doing! Nice meeting you Adrian!”

“You too!” Adrian called. He turned back to Joanne. “She’s cool, I like her,” he said with a grin.

“Whoa, what’s with the library, Katie?” Slim chuckled.

Katie rolled her eyes. She had only grabbed three books before coming in. They were pretty big, but still. 

Drew, who entered directly behind her, laughed. “That’s not even the half of it, you should see what all she left in the car.”

“It’s just a project I’m working on,” Katie said, turning red.

“Kate, there’s a shipment of parts that just came in,” Rudy grunted. “It’s sitting in the corner over there.” He waved toward the far corner, and then turned to glare at the others.

Drew headed out the back, still chuckling as Katie nodded and set her books down on a clean bench. She grabbed the top book from the stack before heading toward the boxes. She had it open in one hand as she opened and unpacked the first box, pausing in her work only when she needed to turn the page.

Chuck (Katie was saddened to find his real name wasn't actually Walrus) was transfixed. “How on earth is she carrying that one-handed?” he muttered quietly to himself.

“Back to _work._ ” Rudy growled.

Chuck made a face at Rudy before turning back to his car. Katie never faltered, of course, she knew he wasn’t talking to her. Her reading didn’t bother him as long as she was getting work done. She breezed through the garage, stocking nuts, bolts, and copper wire with her monstrous book propped on her hip.

“Hey, Marcus, you got the half-inch box wrench?” Slim called from the front end of the sedan he was working on.

Marcus nodded. “Yeah, heads up.” He said, tossing the wrench over his car toward Slim.

Katie, who was on the second box and was currently putting away a box of fuses, didn’t know how bad of an aim Marcus had. The wrench was at least a foot off target and headed straight for Katie’s head.

“Woah!” Slim cried, his eyes widening.

Without taking her eyes off the page she was on, Katie dodged the wrench. It hit the counter behind her and clattered to the floor. She finished tucking the fuses in their drawer, then bent to scoop up the wrench which she passed to Slim before turning back toward her boxes. All without a word, her eyes still firmly glued to her book.

“Uh, thanks…” Slim said, his eyes wide.

Even Rudy was distracted by that. “Girl, what the hell are you _reading_?” he asked incredulously.

Katie jumped, finally looking up from her book to stare at Rudy with wide eyes. “It’s a dissertation about the electronic frequency of ambient psychic energy,” she said simply.

Chuck raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a page-turner,” he said drily.

“Is that for class?” Rudy asked, eyeing the book. It had to be at least three inches thick.

Katie blushed, looking flustered. “Oh, uh…no,” she stuttered.

“Don’t tell me you’re reading it for recreation?” Chuck asked, looking surprised.

Katie shook her head, her face still red. “No, of course not. I mean, it’s interesting, though.”

“So what _are_ you reading it for?” Rudy asked. He didn’t sound as gruff as usual. He seemed almost interested.

“I’m thinking about trying to invent something,” Katie said, hunching her shoulders.

“How old are you again?” Marcus asked, his voice pitched with disbelief.

Rudy didn’t give her a chance to answer. “What is it you’re thinking about inventing?” he asked, ignoring Marcus.

“Well, I was just thinking, people might be more, um, comfortable with psychic powers if there were something that they could use with them, even without training,” Katie said haltingly.

“What, like, something a normal person can float around?” Slim asked. He waved his wrench like it was a magic wand.

Katie frowned. “No, not at all. I have no intention of propagating that kind of useless frivolity,” she said, standing a little straighter.

“What, then?” Rudy persisted.

Katie shook her head, shrugging. “I’m not sure. I need to do more research.” She paused, grimacing. “And figure out a place where I can work on this stuff.”

“You can’t do it at home?” Slim asked.

“Uh, no. I…I don’t think the people I live with will be okay with me doing that in…uh, in the house.” Katie choked out. She could just imagine Mildred’s reaction to a psychic experiment happening anywhere under her roof. It would probably involve a stake and quite a lot of fire.

“There’s a storage room upstairs,” Rudy said bluntly, breaking through her thoughts.

“What?” Katie asked, confused.

Marcus laughed. “Yeah, Rudy, isn’t that room kind of full? Of, you know…stuff we’re storing?”

“You think this girl can’t make room for herself up there?” Rudy grunted. “Kate, if you can make the room, you can use it, alright?” he said, and turned back to his work.

Katie blinked. “Well, but…I still need to work…” She didn’t want these experiments to interfere with her job. She needed the money. 

“The access is outside. You can work in there any time you want to,” Rudy said, reading her mind.

Katie stood there in shock for a moment before dropping her book and throwing herself at him.

“Thank you, Rudy! You’re awesome!” she cried as she hugged him. 

Rudy, she was surprised to see, turned beet red and grunted, shrugging her off of him. “Back to work…” he grumbled, halfheartedly.

“It’s really okay…” Katie mumbled as she climbed the stairs to the second floor storage room. It was seven-thirty, and everyone else had gone home. Everyone except Drew, who was insisting on staying to take her home.

“Yeah, it is, since I’m _staying_. I’m not about to let you walk all the way home in the dark, Katie,” Drew retorted as he followed her up the stairs.

“It’s not that far…” she grumbled quietly. She yanked against the door irritably, narrowing her eyes dangerously when it didn’t budge. She shoved and pulled violently, trying to pry it open.

Drew stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. Her face flushed bright red as her heart sped up. He couldn’t hear it, could he? “It’s far enough,” he said, looking amused. He eased around her, turning the handle and shoving firmly against the door. It came unstuck with a loud crack. “Besides, you’re fun to spend time with.”

Katie’s eyes widened, feeling suddenly very overheated. Drew turned away to walk into the room, and she remembered to breathe. She hadn’t even realized she’d forgotten.

Drew whistled, and Katie jumped. She walked into the room behind him, and would have whistled herself if she knew how. The room was packed to the rafters with brown boxes and plastic totes. Literally, Katie was amused to see there were actual rafters.

Drew glanced over at her, his eyebrow raised. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Katie sighed. “Then I’d better get to it, huh?”


	4. 104 - I'll use my powers for good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katie has a really bad day and her anxiety gets away from her. Drew does her a solid.

** 104 – I’ll use my powers for good…-ish **

Miss Hammond's classroom was one of those big stadium style kinds, with only two entrances at the top of the stairs leading down to the ground floor. Katie stood in one of those entrances, staring down at the front of the classroom, fighting nausea. Hammond sat there at her desk, serenely grading homework.

The rest of the room was empty. Hammond's first class of the day didn't start for fifteen minutes.

She couldn't be sure, but if there was a Hell, Katie had to believe that the descent into its innermost circle looked exactly like this.

She had thought about it for a while, whether to ask for Hammond's signature at all, and if she did, when. She had finally decided on trying it first thing in the morning, before classes began. It would make for some awkward tension during class later if (when) she said no, but it seemed to her there was a better chance of Hammond agreeing if she asked her before she got the momentum going on her sadism during class.

Oh, who was she kidding? She wanted her to clear it _now_ so she wouldn't have to go to class _later_.

Like the frog would ever agree anyway. Isn't the definition of insanity 'doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result'?

_ Hammond _ was the one who needed a straightjacket…

And once the subject was breached, Hammond would go out of her way to make her classes even more miserable.

Which Katie would still have to attend.

Because she was going to refuse.

It's just the way she was.

Katie mentally slapped herself. Stop being a wuss!! No one ever did anything worth mentioning by following the curriculum, _right?_

"Mi- _Doctor_ Hammond…?" Katie said, drawing her attention as she reached the foot of the stairs.

Hammond looked up, frowning. "Class doesn't begin until ten o'clock," she said automatically. Her frown deepened when she realized it was Katie. "You? Your class isn't until three," she said sullenly, clearly meaning, 'I shouldn't have to deal with _you_ for five more hours.'

Katie took a deep, bracing breath. "Yes, ma'am, I know. I'm actually here to ask you a fa- well…a, um…question?"

"You got a seventy-nine on your essay," she said blandly, turning back to her grading.

Katie shook her head. "Oh, no, that's not it…"

Hammond looked back up at her, frowning. "I marked clearly on the essay what your mistakes were," she said. Was it just that no one ever asked the woman about anything other than their test scores?

Katie shook her head again. "No, it's not about the essay."

Hammond sighed. "What else could you possibly need to ask?" she asked as she set down her pen and slipped off her reading glasses. She sounded exasperated, as though just being in Katie's presence was draining her of her patience.

Well, that made two of them.

She pulled the form from her bag. Just ask, she told herself. Do it quick, like a band-aid. "I just wanted to ask if you'd sign this," she said, handing Hammond the form. 

Hammond held her glasses in front of her eyes for a moment as she glanced over the paper. Katie winced, she'd really been hoping she would just sign it and give it back to get rid of her. 

Hammond eyes widened in surprise. And not the nice kind of surprise, like 'Oh, wow, a puppy! I'm so happy!' The angry, mean kind of surprise. Like 'What I thought was a puppy is actually a giant bowl of spoiled milk that has now spilled all over my lap. Vengeance shall be mine.'

"This is a form to test out of my class." Her tone was bland.

Ah, well. She'd come this far. "Yes, ma'am, and I'd really appreciate it if you would sign off on it-" She was doing her best to be as polite as possible, but the oddly shrill laugher that cut her off made her flinch.

"You honestly think you're _able_ to test out?" Hammond asked, still tittering. "Maybe you didn't hear me; you got a _seventy-nine_ on your essay."

Katie clenched her teeth. "Well, um, if I fail, then it's _my_ time and money I've wasted, not yours," she reasoned. "All I'm asking for is a signature." She was sincerely trying to maintain a civil tone, but annoyance was beginning to seep into her voice. Why had she bothered, again? Something about an idiotic platitude?

"I'm afraid I can't." Hammond's smile was quite blatantly evil. "In the interest of your education, I must insist you continue to attend class."

"My _education-_ " Katie sputtered, incredulous.

Hammond just continued to smile. "Yes, Miss Johnson, your education. Just because you can pass a _test_ doesn't mean you understand the _material_."

"The mat- Miss Hammond, I understand the _material_ better than yo-" Katie started to retort, her manners forgotten in her anger. But Hammond cut her off again.

"It's _Doctor_ ," she said, her condescending smile vanishing. "And as I'm s _ure_ you know, as an educator my first priority is making sure you understand the subject!"

Katie sneered. "You mean indoctrinating me into your narrow-minded _view_ of the subject?" she cried, her voice getting louder with each word. "Well you can just forget about it, because it will _never_ happen!"

Hammond stood straight up, slamming her hands down on her desk. (If she wasn't so angry, Katie would have laughed; Hammond was a full head shorter than her and looked about as intimidating as a brain-damaged pigeon.)

" _Then you will never pass this course_!" Hammond practically shrieked.

Drew paused as he exited the library, frowning. Katie wasn't in there, either.

Okay, so, he'd only driven her to work twice, but both times she was at his car less than ten minutes after class let out. Yesterday, when she'd shown up with a stack of books as tall as his little sister, he was shocked that she'd gotten there as quickly as she had. Turns out her last class on Monday didn't mind her leaving early. (Apparently, Mr. Caldwell considered her showing up for class to begin with an unnecessary formality.)

Only now it had been a full twenty-five minutes since class let out, and she was nowhere to be found. He was starting to get worried. 

He walked down the steps in front of the library, and froze when he caught sight of a familiar face. "Hey, Joanne!" he called, lifting his hand and waving. She was walking toward the parking lot, chatting with a tall guy keeping pace with her. She jumped when she heard his voice. 

"Have you…oh, right." He dropped his hand, making a face as her eyes widened like a deer caught in the headlights.

The guy beside her started to laugh. "Right, I heard about this phenomenon. If she's doing this, then you must be Drew."

Drew sighed as he reached them. "Yeah that's me. I'm not sure why she does this..."

"I do-OW!" Joanne, who had turned her back to them and was easing herself behind her boyfriend, pinched him hard on his elbow. "Not that I would ever talk about her business!" he added, rubbing his arm. He turned back to Drew. "So what's wrong? You're extremely worried, is Katie missing?"

Drew paused, shocked. "Uh, yeah. How - I mean, have either of you seen her?" he stuttered but collected himself quickly. "It's just, usually she meets me in the parking lot right after class, but it's been almost half an hour and there's no sign of her, and, clearly, I'm getting worried."

"Well, I haven't, but it looks like Joanne's on the case." Before Drew had even started speaking, Joanne had dug out her cell and was fiddling with it. The boyfriend leaned forward, his expression oddly reassuring, "I'm Adrian, by the way," he said.

Drew grinned and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, I'm-"

"Drew!!" a shrill voice called from behind him. He tensed at the sound, but managed to wipe the grimace from his face before he turned around. Ugh. This one again.

"Oh, uh…hi…" Drew began to greet the bouncy blonde trotting up to him, but promptly forgot her name. All he could remember was that there was an S involved, and that she usually had two other girls with her. 

Adrian, noticing his struggle, jumped in. "Isobel!" he cried, his arms wide. Right, _Isobel_. Drew knew it was one of those trendy names. "You're looking positively radiant today! I _was_ wondering what happened to all those orphans, but there you go. So, where are your pet flying monkeys, don't they usually flank you wherever you go?" He pointed to her left and right, where the two girls Drew was remembering usually stood. Drew had to physically wipe his smile away. He could see why Joanne liked this guy; his sense of humor was extremely similar to her best friend's.

Isobel sneered at him. "Myst and Anne had spa appointments," she said with venom. But when she turned back toward Drew, her smile was dazzling. "Drew, I haven't gotten a chance to talk to you for a few days now, how are you settling in?" she asked sweetly.

Drew wasn't paying too close attention to her, glancing over at Joanne's phone almost as often as Joanne was. "Um, pretty well, actually. Better than I thought I would," he answered. 

She grinned. "Well, that's great! Have you gotten a chance to explore the town yet?" She stepped closer to him, her eyes wide.

Drew groaned inwardly. There was no way to avoid this small talk, and he knew just where it was going. "A…a bit, I guess..." Drew answered hesitantly.

She took another step forward. "Well, I'd just love to show you around, if you don't mind a short stop off at the mall. My parents are having this silly cocktail party this weekend, and I need to find a dress for it." She shrugged, as though she were embarrassed. It was a move Drew was familiar with, but if he hadn't already been aware it was a ploy, Adrian's exaggerated eye-roll would have tipped him off. 

Drew smiled halfheartedly. "Well, you know, that's a really nice offer, but I actually have plans. So, um…" He waved and moved away from her, closer to Adrian and Joanne. 

"What kind of plans?" she persisted. Drew’s jaw clenched in annoyance as options raced through his head. He didn’t want to make Katie a target, so he needed to leave her out of it. But what could he say that would discourage Isobel? “I need to work on my car,” he settled on. “The parts I need just came in.

Isobel made a face and part of Drew relaxed. He had picked the right excuse."Well, that's too bad. I was really looking forward to spending some time with you…" she said, pouting dejectedly, moving closer and touching his arm.

Drew gave her a polite smile and patted her hand. "Well, maybe next time," he said, before turning back toward the other two.

"I'll hold you to that!" He heard her retort to his back. 

He didn't answer. Adrian, who was rapidly becoming Drew's new favorite person, signaled him when Isobel had finally walked away.

"Has it ever occurred to you to just _tell_ this girl that her presence alone is enough to make you want to ralph?" Adrian asked him, amused.

Drew laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far. She’s just annoying.” He shrugged. “I’ve dealt with women like her for years.”

“Oh, god, there are more of her?”

"You have no idea," Drew answered, with feeling.

Joanne interrupted them, holding her cell up for Adrian to see. He laughed at her. "Really, you can't just read it?" She pinched him lightly as he read the message, still chuckling. He shrugged her off. "She says she's at work," he said, surprised, looking back up at Drew.

"Work?" Drew frowned, moving closer.

Adrian nodded. "Yeah, she said she walked?"

"Why on _earth_ …" Drew muttered to himself. Joanne took her cell back and started to fiddle. "No, no," Drew said, holding out a hand to stop her. "It's okay. I'll ask her myself when I get there. Thanks, though." 

Drew was almost fuming when he reached the garage a few minutes later. He kept having to remind himself that Katie had no way to let him know where she'd gone, because (like an idiot) he'd never given her his number. 

There was only one car on the lift, and it looked like Marcus had left early. Slim and Chuck were working on the car, and Rudy was at his desk in the office. Drew looked around once more, thinking he'd missed her, but no. Katie wasn't in the garage.

Really? Again?

He glanced out the back window to check if she was working on something back there (she wasn't) before he walked over and knocked on Rudy's office door.

Rudy looked up, frowning. "Where's Katie?" Drew asked, without any pretense. 

Rudy pointed to the ceiling with his pen. "Upstairs," he grunted.

"Upstairs? In her storage room? She's not here working?" Drew asked, his eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh, she's working," Rudy said, sounding almost amused. "She's just working upstairs where she can't scare us mere mortals."

Chuck, who had apparently been eavesdropping, cut in. "Seriously, Drew, we couldn't put down a tool without it getting put away almost instantly," he called from across the garage, his eyes wide.

"And it was weird and creepy," Slim added. "Because she was moving so fast we never caught her actually putting them away!"

"It's just like they vanished into thin air!" Chuck exclaimed.

"That's enough of that, you two, back to work," Rudy grumbled. He turned back to Drew. "Maybe _you_ know why she's so agitated?"

"Agitated?" Drew asked, confused.

"Yes, agitated," Rudy said. "She was quite plainly agitated."

Dew shrugged. "I have no idea, all I know is she walked here." He frowned. "Which by itself is pretty weird, since she'd have had to skip her last class to get here before me if she's walking."

"She doesn't strike me as the type of person who skips classes," Rudy said, raising an eyebrow. His voice was bland.

Drew shook his head. "Me either."

Behind them, Slim and Chuck were still talking as they worked on the car. "Hey, you don't think she was moving that fast because she didn't have a book, or something, do you?" Slim asked, suddenly.

Chuck pointed at him. "I bet that's it, we should get her a book," he said, nodding.

Drew leaned forward. "How did you convince her there was work you needed done upstairs?" he asked, his eyebrows drawn together.

Rudy shrugged. "Well, I figure you're gonna need a lead acid battery for that ancient car of yours, I told her I was pretty sure there was one up there."

"You sent her to find a lead acid battery?" Drew asked, his tone dry.

"Yes," Rudy grunted.

Drew looked surprised, and a little skeptical. "Do you…actually _have_ a lead acid battery?"

Rudy's eyes widened defiantly. "Maybe," he said. "There's a lot of stuff up there."

"You know she's fully aware you were getting her out of your hair?" Drew asked, grinning

Rudy harrumphed. "Well, she had run out of things to do down here anyway." He looked up at the ceiling, his expression mildly concerned. "Apparently, she's the kind of person who cleans when she's upset."

Drew crossed his arms. "I wonder what she's upset about?" he mumbled.

"Beats the hell out of me," Rudy grumbled, shrugging. "But she's been up there for a half hour now, and if she's moving up there like she was down here, she's probably already got it retrofitted and listed for rent."

Drew laughed, and shook his head. "Alright, well, I'm going to go up and check on her," he said, backing out of the office.

"Wait!" Chuck stopped him as he made for the back door. "We found a book!" he cried. The 'book', if that was even the right word for it, looked extremely old and dirty. Drew looked at it, frowning. It looked as though they'd dug it out of the engine they were working on; the cover was almost black, and it was hard for him to read the title. He almost laughed when he made it out.

"This is an owner's manual for a 1998 Cadillac DeVille," he said, looking back up at the two of them with a raised eyebrow.

Slim blinked. "…Your point?"

Chuck was laughing. "Have you seen the stuff she reads?" he asked, raising his eyebrows, amused.

Drew paused. "Fair enough, give it," he said suddenly, holding out his hand for the book.

"Katie – woah…" Drew froze, shocked, as he stepped into the upstairs storage room. It wasn't retro-fitted – far from it – but it looked as though every box in the room had been unpacked, and their contents gathered in huge piles in the center of the room. When they'd left last night they had barely managed to clear a space near the doorway, and only half a dozen of the boxes had even been opened, let alone unpacked. 'Agitated' may have been an understatement, Drew could understand how this sort of behavior would scare Rudy.

Katie's head poked out from behind a frighteningly large pile of what looked like radiators. "Drew!" she cried. Her face was extremely flushed and she was out of breath. "I'm _so_ sorry!" she started to apologize as she picked her way toward him.

"Hey it's fine-careful!" He reached out when she stumbled over an air filter, but she was still five feet away. She caught herself before she hit the floor.

"I would have told you where I was, but I didn't know how to get a hold of you." She reached him a moment later, and sank down onto what had to be the only unopened box left in the room.

"I'll give you my number," he said distractedly as he set the Cadillac manual to the side and crouched down beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?"

Katie's eyes widened. "I'm fine!" she squeaked breathlessly. Drew almost laughed. It was the worst lie he'd ever seen.

"Katie, you skipped a class. You walked to work, and then you were working so frantically you actually frightened your employers." He gestured to the room behind him. "I bet you don't even remember what he sent you up here for."

"It had something to do with cars…" 

He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. "And you've been up here, what? Half an hour?"

She blinked, frowning. "I don't know. What time is it?"

Drew rolled his eyes."Not the point. Katie, either something is wrong, or you're _on_ something-"

"I am not _on_ anything!" Katie cried, sitting straighter. Well, except her antidepressants, which clearly hadn't kicked in yet, but that really wasn't any of his business.

"So what's wrong?" Drew asked, without missing a beat.

Katie sighed, slumping back down. She took another breath, maybe to lie or try and brush off his concern again, but when he caught her eye she caved. She reached into the bag sitting on the ground beside her, brought out a single piece of paper and handed it to him.

Drew glanced over it, frowning. "What is this, a permission slip?" he scoffed. "What, are you twelve?"

"You know Miss Hammond, Intro to PST?" Katie asked.

"Yeah, squat woman, looks like a toad, reads directly from the textbook?"

"Well, she absolutely hates me, and I'm not too fond of her or her joke of a class, so I want to test out of it, but I can't without her signature," she explained.

"Oh, no..." Drew could tell where this was headed, and when he looked over Katie's calm was already crumbling. When her face started to twist, instinct took over and without any hesitation he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"Of course she said no," Katie choked out. "And then I snapped at her, and then she yelled at me, and then at the end of the day when it was time for her class-" She twisted to look up at him, her eyes pleading. "I couldn't," she whispered. "I just couldn't.

Drew squeezed her tighter."Of course not," he muttered. "Screw that amphibious skyla. You don't need her."

Katie giggled and sniffed, pulling away. "I do though," she said. "Her course is required for a degree."

"Well...It's not like you're graduating tomorrow-" He paused, raising an eyebrow. "Is it?"

Katie laughed. "No."

"Ok, had to check, I've seen you in the library," Drew said with a shrug. "Anyway, anything can happen between now and then. And hey, your laboratory is almost cleared out, that's gotta be a good thing."

She snorted. "'Laboratory' sounds so…so mad scientist."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

Katie laughed, pulling away and steepling her fingers. "So, MISS Hammond…" she said in an exaggerated villain impression. "You don't want to sign the form? Well, perhaps you'll feel differently after you get a taste of my DEATH RAY!" She suddenly jumped up, pointing her fingers at a pile of mufflers nearby.

"How can she sign if she's dead?"

Katie paused and blinked. "…MIND CONTROL RAY!" she amended abruptly.

Drew laughed. "Hey, do you feel better?" he asked, straightening from his crouch.

"Yes, actually. Thank you." She seemed to be telling the truth, though her expression was still kind of strained.

Drew frowned slightly. Well, at least she didn't look as though she was about to fall to pieces. "Hey, what's in the box, anyway?" he asked, gesturing toward the one she'd been sitting on. 

Katie shrugged. "I have no idea. I hadn't gotten to that one yet." She stepped closer and lifted open the top. She frowned as she eyed the contents. "What on _earth_?"

With what looked like considerable effort, Katie lifted up a large, rust covered box thing. She stared at it quizzically while Drew started to laugh, glancing back down into the larger box, which was filled with three more just like it.

"What _is_ it?" Katie mumbled. It didn't look like anything else she had piled up, all of which she'd managed to identify by the label on their boxes or by matching their pictures from books she'd also unpacked.

Drew was still chortling. "It's a lead acid battery." He managed to get out.

"A what?"

Drew doubled over in renewed laughter, but quickly got a hold of himself. "It's a very old type of battery. And it's what Rudy sent you up here for."

Katie's eyes widened. "Oh!" 

Drew lifted the battery out of her hands and set it back down in the box. "Don't worry about it, I probably won't even need them. You get back to what you were doing," he said before lifting the entire box into his arms.

"But won't Rudy want me back downstairs?"

Drew rolled his eyes. "To do what?" Katie frowned, and Drew shook his head. "I'll ask if you want, but I don't think there's anything left downstairs to do." He smirked. 

Katie turned bright red, but Drew lifted his hand before she could answer. "Seriously, don't worry about it. Just let me know when you're ready to leave." 

" _There_ you are!"

Katie didn't even have it in her to wince as Mildred's shrill voice drilled its way directly into her brain. It had just been one of those days. 

"Do you realize what time it is? It's nearly nine o'clock! AT NIGHT!" 

She managed something between a grunt and a sigh to acknowledge Mildred before moving toward the hallway.

"We were worried _sick_!" Mildred whined, apparently intent on working herself up into a tangent.

Worried sick? Katie paused and dug her cell out of her back pocket. No missed calls, no new messages. She shrugged. Couldn't have been that worried.

She tucked the cell away and continued toward her bedroom, not bothering to challenge Mildred's claim. That would require talking. _To Mildred_.

Katie wasn't paying much attention to what Mildred was complaining about, but she had a clear path to her room so she just kept moving. She fully expected her to follow her to her room to continue screaming at her, and was mildly surprised when she didn't. 

If she had the energy she'd have worried about it, but she barely even noticed as she dropped her things on the floor and fell - fully clothed - into her bed.

Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was, maybe it just wasn't as satisfying to yell at someone who clearly wasn't listening.

"Well, I'm glad you like my class so much…" Katie jumped as Mr. Caldwell's voice rang out from behind her. She spun in her seat to see him staring at her curiously from the doorway to his classroom. "But you should know that you're _very_ early," he finished, sounding amused.

Katie flushed a bright red. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Caldwell. The Library doesn't open until eleven-thirty."

"Yes, and my first class isn't until ten," he answered drily. He stepped through the door and set his bag and a stack of folders on his desk, which sat directly to the right of the classroom door. Mr. Caldwell's classroom was as different from Miss Hammonds as…well, as different as _he_ was from _her_. The classroom was just barely big enough to house all of his students for any given class, and the chairs were all fully separate from the desks; the majority of which were shoved away and against the wall, or used as extra seating rather than to write on. Even people who took notes compulsively (like Katie) didn't usually bother with them in this class. 

"Do you want to tell me what's bothering you?" Mr. Caldwell asked when Katie didn't answer.

She puffed out her cheeks, annoyed but still embarrassed. "Why is everyone asking me that?" she grumbled.

Mr. Caldwell laughed. "Well, this is a school for psychics, and your best friend is an empath," he said, his tone still dry. "But I think mostly it's because you're a terrible actress."

Katie tapped her pencil against her desk, frowning. "So, are you saying I _shouldn't_ try out for the school play?" She tried to look crushed, and failed miserably.

Mr. Caldwell dropped his face into his hand, laughing in spite of himself. "Katie…" 

"Oh, come on, teach," she said, grinning. "A quick montage with some snappy music and I'll be up to snuff in no time!" 

He rolled his eyes. "How about just telling me why you're sitting in my class about, what...seven hours early?" He glanced up at the clock. His first class was at ten, but the class Katie attended wasn't until three.

Katie blushed and looked down. "It was the only one unlocked," she muttered.

Mr. Caldwell frowned. That was a bit of an oversight on his part. At least it was Katie and not one of the other teachers who discovered it. Not like there was anything to steal. He sighed. "Katie, why are you at school before it even opens?"

She fiddled with her pencil. "Um…I woke up at five this morning. Couldn't go back to sleep," she said quietly.

His face softened. "Nightmare?"

"Yeah," Katie said, shrugging. "Since I couldn't sleep I just got up, and since no one else was up I just kind of…snuck out."

That startled him. "Snuck out? Are you serious?"

Katie blushed. "Yeah, well, I didn't want to wake my…uh, stepmother." It was difficult for her to call Mildred her 'stepmother'. She didn't consider her a stepmother any more than she considered Adam a father. But that was technically what she was, and 'stepmother' was less of a mouthful than 'The evil cow my sperm donor married.'

"You at least had breakfast?" He hesitated to ask, but she was noticeably thinner than she had been at the beginning of the semester, and now he was worried.

"Of course!" Katie said quickly, her eyes wide.

Mr. Caldwell couldn't help but chuckle. "Maybe you're right about that montage," he muttered. He paused for a moment and frowned again, confused. "Wait, _when_ did you get here?"

"What?" 

He glanced up at the clock above the door. "If you got up at five, even with getting ready and eating…" He shook his head. "Even _walking_ , you couldn't have gotten here any later than seven."

Katie's blush, which had started to fade, deepened. "Yeah, well…it might have been seven-thirty…I didn't check." She'd actually gotten there at about six.

Mr. Caldwell looked utterly flabbergasted. "What have you been _doing_?"

"Studying," Katie said, a little defensively.

"Studying _what_? You're acing every class! Well, except Hammonds." He winced as he remembered. "I heard what happened, I'm sorry."

Katie sighed and shrugged. "Not your fault, you didn't know I needed her permission."

"No, I didn't," he agreed reluctantly. "But if there's anything I can do to help, let me know."

"Thank you." She smiled, looking exhausted just talking about it. "If I fought, I'm sure they'd allow it. I just don't have it in me today." She started to rearrange the paper spread across her desk, eager to think about anything other than Hammond.

"So what's all that?" Mr. Caldwell asked, as she drew his attention to her research.

Katie hunched her shoulders, slightly embarrassed. "Something that popped into my head yesterday. My boss is letting me use one of his storage rooms to experiment."

"Someone gave you a lab??" He looked both horrified and amused.

Katie sat bolt upright. " _Why does everyone keep calling it that?_ " she squeaked.

"Uh, no reason. Just so long as I'm still your favorite teacher…?" He eyed her significantly.

"Of course!" Katie said, slightly confused.

Mr. Caldwell breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Ok, good, I'm safe." Katie laughed. "So what are you working on, then?"

"Well, I had read about this study…" She started to dig through her papers. "It was about how much psychic energy the average person expended in a day…"

"Wait," he said, holding up a hand to stop her. "When you say 'average', do you mean average-average, or average psychic-ability-using average?"

Katie blinked. "Um, psychic-ability-using. But is there a better term for that, because-"

"Yeah," Mr. Caldwell laughed. "It is a bit of a mouthful...What about just 'Psychic'?" he asked, apparently taking the topic seriously.

Katie shook her head. "I think that sounds a little prejudiced. I mean, _everyone_ is psychic, technically. Just some people don't know how to use it."

"Ok," he said, perking up. "Well what about 'psychically- _trained_ '?"

"Yeah!" Katie said, grinning. "That's better. Or 'Kinetically-trained', maybe, since the study showed that passive psychic abilities expended next to no energy at all. It's really the kinetic ones that drain you."

"I'll keep that in mind." Then he paused and frowned. "Wait, what were we talking about before?"

Katie frowned. Then she glanced down at her desk and grinned. "Oh, my battery."

"Battery?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, well, it turns out that even the most active psychically-trained people didn't use even half of the energy they generated in a day. I thought it might be cool if there was something that could store that excess energy and use it for something else, like a flashlight or a car…"

Mr. Caldwell started to smile. "Ok, so you're building a psychic battery?"

"Well, it's more like a capacitor-" Katie paused when she noticed his smile turn indulgent. She blushed. "Yeah, okay, it’s a psychic battery."

"And why exactly are you doing this?" he asked.

Katie shrugged, a little surprised at the directness of his question. "Well, I just thought it might be good if there was something that was…well, for psychics…that everyone could use." She shrugged again, embarrassed. "I also thought I might show it at the pageant. If I finished it in time."

Mr. Caldwell smiled, not in the least bit surprised. "So you've got a great idea, and you've got a lab…what about components and tools?" he asked as he sat down behind his desk. He couldn't help sounding like a teacher.

"Well, there are a lot of spare parts around the shop," Katie said. "And there's a hardware place not too far away. It's not as complicated as it might sound. Although there are a few things I'll need." She bit her lip. She didn't really _need_ any specialized tools, but there were some that would save her a lot of time and energy. And there wasn't exactly a tutorial anywhere on how to build an aurascope.

Mr. Caldwell narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, tapping his chin with a pen that seemed, to Katie, to have materialized out of nowhere. "Well, I don't know how much this'll help," he said, spinning in his chair and opening up the bottom drawer of his filing cabinet, which sat behind his desk. "But you're welcome to it." He pulled out a small black box and what looked like two small metal cylinders attached to it with wires. "This is a bio-feedback meter. It's like a volt meter, but for organic energy."

Katie's eyes widened at the name. She'd read about these. They hadn't really been in use the past five or ten years, but their application wasn't really much different from any of the fancier electronics scientists were using now. "This is perfect actually, this is exactly what I need," she said, her face lighting up as she stood up. She stepped over to his desk and took the meter from him. The cylinders where heavier than they looked. She grinned up at him. "Thank you so much!"

He laughed. "No problem. Just remember me during your world domination speech." Katie rolled her eyes.

It took Drew a while to figure out which classroom belonged to Hammond. He had her class, he just hadn't bothered to learn anyone's name. He almost laughed when he realized which one of his teachers was causing Katie so much distress. 'Doctor' Hammond was a complete joke. He was acing her class, during which he spent the majority of his time playing tetris on his cell. For the life of him, he honestly couldn't think of what it was she was supposed to be teaching.

He stood near the door and waited for her final class of the day to file out. He would probably be late picking Katie up, but he somehow doubted she'd mind.

"Doctor Hammond?" he called out before she could finish gathering her things and follow after her students.

She paused and frowned up at him. "Can I help you, young man?"

"Drew Vant," he reintroduced himself as he reached her desk. "I just started last week"

She nodded in recognition and turned back to the monumental pile of ungraded essays she was arranging. "Ah, yes. Well, if you're interested in tutoring, I'm only available between two and four, Mondays and Wednesdays."

"Oh, no ma'am," he said with a charming grin. People like her loved nothing as much as false flattery and ego stroking, so he meant to make a real effort at laying it on thick. "I'm actually doing just fine in your class. This is about a friend of mine."

Momentarily stunned by his grin, it took her a second to answer him. "Grades are final," she said, frowning with her initial assumption.

"Oh, no, nothing like that," he said, still grinning. He reached into his bag and pulled out a sheet of paper, the one Katie had forgotten and left with him the day before. "I just need your signature, that's all."

Hammond looked confused but still off balance from his eerily accurate Eddie Hascal impression. She took the paper from him, already reaching for a pen. But she stopped as she looked it over, frowning. "You want to test out of my class?" she asked, sounding almost hurt. Then her gaze fell on the name that had been filled out, and she sneered. "As I informed Miss Johnson, she is not doing well enough in my class to justify her attempting to test out," she said, her voice flat.

Drew maintained his smile. "I really hope you'll reconsider. It won't hurt anyone to let her try, after all, and I know she'd really appreciate it."

"It makes no difference to me how she feels on the subject," Hammond said, her voice slightly shrill, as she lifted up her stack of essays and tapped them rather forcefully against her desk. "The answer is no."

Drew sighed. He'd lost her. Oh, well, time for plan B. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. "Tell me, Miss Hammond," he began, not missing her flinch at the difference in her title. "Have you ever heard of Advant Technologies?"

Hammond took the card, her expression pinched. "No. Should I have?"

"Well, it's my father's business. It's how my parents can afford to send me to this fancy vanity school." He smiled as she flinched yet again. "My father runs it, and he's also the head Information Control Specialist."

Hammond sighed audibly. "Is any of this supposed to matter to me?:

Drew's eyes widened. "Oh, well of course!" he said. "Let me explain. An Information Control Specialist, like my father, spends the majority of their time deleting unwanted pictures, or video, or any other kind of information from any and all databases." Hammond's eyebrow quirked in disbelief. He grinned. "Yes, that includes the entirety of the internet, and even personal computers. My father takes his business seriously. Which is why he's the first person they call if a celebrity or a government official wants an incriminating photo or story to disappear."

Hammond flapped her hand impatiently. "So what's your point? Is this supposed to impress me?"

"Well, Miss Hammond, my point - impressive or not - is that before they can _delete_ incriminating data, the people who work for my father must first _find_ the data."

Hammond frowned, still confused. Drew paused before continuing, mentally bracing himself.

"Now, I honestly have no idea what kinds of stuff you might have done in the past-" Hammond suddenly sat bolt upright, realization dawning. It took all of his concentration to keep from laughing. "But I'm sure that if I really try, I can come up with more than enough to cover that entire billboard right down the street-"

"Are you _threatening_ me?" Hammond shrieked, standing up in a huff, her face beet red.

"It's called blackmail," Drew said, his smile vanishing, his tone flat. "And I'm not finished."

"You even try it and I will have you expelled!!"

Drew couldn't stop the laughter, which shocked Hammond into silence. "You think I _care_?" he asked through his mirth. "I never wanted to come to this ridiculous school to begin with! Go ahead and expel me! It won't change that billboard, will it?"

The wind taken completely out of her sails, Hammond sank back down into her seat. Drew leaned forward, sliding Katie's permission form closer to her. "That is an awful lot of work, though," he said. "And the only reason I would even bother is because of how much you upset my good friend Katie."

Hammond scowled down at the innocuous slip of paper sitting in front of her. "You cannot possibly be serious," she muttered.

Drew shrugged. "I really like Katie, and I don't particularly like you. All things considered, though," he said, making a face. "I'd much rather you'd just sign the stupid paper so I can go back to ignoring you and playing tetris at the back of your class."

Hammond glared at him, and then back down at the paper, fiddling with her pen.

"What kind of cafeteria closes at three, anyway?" Katie muttered darkly to herself. Class was over and she was _starving_ , but did they care? No. Stupid cafeteria.

She hunched her shoulders, partly in irritation but partly because of the cold. Not even October yet and the days were already getting shorter - and colder. It didn't help that Drew was late, but Katie couldn't get too upset. Not when she had completely ditched him the day before.

She settled down on the curb to wait, setting her bag down beside her to droop across. She was exhausted. She'd been awake for so long with so little sleep to begin with, she was surprised she had even managed to stay conscious through her last two classes. Probably the only reason she had was because of how hungry she was. Guess it was sort of a good thing the cafeteria lady was a bum. Refusing to feed her. Because of why? 

Must be the meatloaf…

Her thoughts continued to get jumbled and loopy for a minute, and the next thing she knew, Drew was shaking her awake.

"Katie, are you okay?" he asked as she sat up and looked around groggily. "Don't tell me you were actually asleep?"

Katie rubbed her eyes and pulled back her hair. "No…" she blurted without thinking. She paused. "Um, maybe. I'm not sure." Had she fallen asleep? Sure she was sleepy, but it had gotten pretty nippy out by now. Hard to believe she could sleep though that…

She started when she felt a warm weight settle on her shoulders. "Tha-that's okay…" she tried to say when she realized Drew was wrapping her up in his jacket.

"You were shivering," he said, frowning as she stood up. He leaned closer, eyeing her face. "And you look like hell."

Katie made a face. "Thanks." she muttered drily. She heaved her bag over one shoulder and turned to where his car was parked, debating whether or not to return his coat.

"Keep it," he told her before she could say anything. He passed her on the way to his car, walking backward so he could smirk at her. "You need it more than I do."

She considered making another face, but she was too grateful for the added warmth. She felt a little weird and embarrassed that something as simple and silly as a borrowed coat almost made her want to cry. "Thanks," she said quietly, but sincerely. Drew's smirk faded, but she didn't notice the concern replace it on his face; she was too busy shoving her bag in his back seat. "Would you mind terribly if we stopped at that gas station on the way to the garage?" she asked after shutting the back door.

Drew raised an eyebrow. "I'm almost afraid to ask. You can't be ready for experiments yet…?"

That earned him a smile. "No, I just want to get a snack or something. I'm about to pass out, and the cafeteria closed at three." She pouted. "Who even does that?"

"You're hungry? When did you have lunch?" He asked as they both settled down in the front seat.

"Um, ten-thirty or eleven." She saw his eyebrows shoot up, and hunched her shoulders. "I didn't get much for breakfast, so I got hungry pretty early." She looked down, playing with her fingers as he shook his head and started the car. "I was gonna go back for a snack or something between my afternoon classes, but I got caught up in the library. You know, they don't open until eleven? _Who even does that_?"

Drew laughed. "You repeat yourself a lot when you're tired, did you know?" 

"I'm not tired, I'm hungry…" she grumbled.

"Which is why you were asleep on the curb when I found you?"

She looked up at him, puffing out her cheeks in frustration. "I _wasn't_ asleep, and anyway, you were late!" She ignored his laugh, glance out the window and frowning. "Wait ,where are we? This isn't the way to the garage…"

Drew shook his head. "We're not going to the garage, or a gas station. You're hungry, I'm taking you to a restaurant."

Katie's jaw dropped. "What?" she squeaked, sounding slightly horrified, "Drew, I can't afford a restaurant, I haven't been paid yet-"

"Relax," he said, his eyes wide though he was still amused. "I'll pay for it, okay?"

"You can't pay for it!" Katie's voice was starting to sound extremely squeaky.

"Why not?" Drew asked, genuinely confused. 

"Because if you pay, it's a _date_!" Katie cried desperately.

Drew couldn't help the bark of laughter. "What, and that's a bad thing?" He held up a hand when she made a strangled sort of noise. "Ok, well, how about if I pay and then you can pay me back later?"

"What if I don't _want_ to pay you back later?" Katie grumbled, finally losing the squeak. She already had her first paycheck split eight different ways for her first experiment, she didn't need to add a ninth. "What if I just want a bag of pretzels and not to have to owe you later and worry about it and-"

"So I pay and you don't owe me!" Drew turned to stare at her as they stopped at a red light. She didn't look as crazy as she sounded, but her eyebrows were furrowed in distress and she was biting her thumb nail. "Really, is it such an awful idea? A date with me, I mean?"

Katie's eyes narrowed. "Don't be ridiculous…" she muttered.

"Well, you first," Drew countered, turning back to the road as the light changed. It didn't sound quite right, but she knew what he meant.

" _You_ don't want to date _me_ ," Katie said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why not?"

"Are you kidding?" She stared at him. He glanced over, his expression serious, widening his eyes to re-emphasize his question. "I'm a nerd!" she said finally. "I'm the Charity Case. And you're…like, _hot_."

Drew grinned. "You think I'm hot?"

"Drew!"

He spread his fingers out, keeping his palms on the steering wheel. "Alright, so I'm hot. And that means we can't date? Why, because you're smart? It's not like we're a different species or something. And I'll tell you a secret, you might not have noticed, but you're hot too." He glanced over and smirked. "When you're not a hot mess, anyway."

"You already hang out with me too much as it is," Katie continued as if she hadn't heard him. "Ostracism isn't a joke, it's no fun being the butt of an entire school's worth of jokes."

"Yeah, well, it isn't exactly a joyride hanging out with the people making the jokes, either," Drew said drily. He pulled into a parking lot and stopped the car. "You're a little neurotic, you know?" he said, looking over at her.

She crossed her arms, pouting. "Better neurotic than moronic."

Drew chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, well…" He sighed. "Ok, so I had hoped I wouldn't have to bribe you just for _dinner_ , but…" He twisted in his seat, reaching into the bag he'd tossed in the back. He brought out a sheet of paper and handed it to her before she could protest. And as she stared at it in disbelief, he turned off the car and got out.

"How?" she barely managed to choke out when he came around and opened her door.

He grinned. "Blackmail and treachery." 

"She'll fail you!"

Drew shrugged. "Well then my grade will finally reflect the effort I put into her class." He rolled his eyes when she continued to stare at him. "You care. I don't. It's that simple." He straightened up and stepped back, giving her room to get out of the car. "Now, I thought you were hungry?" he asked, then raised an eyebrow. "Or was that not a big enough bribe?"

Katie jumped out of the car and threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you!" she said. "I am, and it was. Please feed me."

Drew laughed. She turned around and set the admission form gently in her seat before following him into the restaurant.


	5. 105 - Talk nerdy to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katie and Drew take a break from science to visit a...*shudder* MALL. Katie is hit with inspiration and a new project is born.

**105 – Talk nerdy to me**

"Drew?" Katie called, making her way carefully down the stairs. "Are you busy?" She looked over at his project car; his head was still under the hood. Maybe he didn't hear her?

"Kate?" Rudy poked his head out the back door of the garage. "Oh, so you _are_ here. Have you gotten your score for that test yet?" He had asked her every day since she took the test on Tuesday, but he sounded distracted. It may have been by the massive pile of junk she was carrying, but he kept glancing over his shoulder.

"Yes!" Katie said, excited. She made it to the foot of the stairs and grinned at Rudy. "Ninety-four percent, I've officially tested out of Intro to Paranormal Scientific Theory!" She started to bounce, but stopped quickly when her bio-meter, which she had balanced at the very top of her pile, threatened to fall.

"Paranormal science?" She heard someone scoff from behind Rudy. It didn't sound like any of the others, so she assumed it was a customer. "Isn't that an oxymoron?"

Katie frowned, noting the wary expression that passed over Rudy's face. "Maybe ten or twenty years ago it was," she said, craning her neck to try and address the stranger. "Now it's just as credible as biology or algebra."

The man standing behind Rudy was tall, around six feet, with shaggy black hair and about a week's worth of stubble. He held up his hands in surrender. "Point taken," he said with a light chuckle. "I was joking, actually. I was just telling the guys in here how interested I was in the school down the street. You go there, I take it?"

He was handsome - almost as handsome as Drew - and charming as well. But there was something about him that poked at the back of Katie's mind, something that put her on her guard. Something about him clearly bugged Rudy as well, who seemed pretty disgruntled with the stranger joining the conversation. "I'm Malcom, by the way," he said, stepping forward with his hand outstretched, then paused as he noticed her arms full.

She blinked, frowning. Why did that name sound so familiar? "Um, yeah," she said, answering his question. "I just started last month."

His eyebrows shot up. "And you're already testing out of classes? That's pretty impressive." Katie started to blush.

"Yeah, well, she _is_ kind of a genius." She heard Drew say reasonably from behind her. She grinned at him over her shoulder and he grinned back, before looking curiously toward the pile of things she was carrying. "Did you need help with that?" he asked.

Katie perked up. "Yes, actually," she said looking around for a place to set it all. Rudy moved out of the doorway, waving her toward an empty workbench just inside the door. "Thanks," she grunted as she maneuvered the pile onto its surface and started to sort everything out.

"Ok, so it wasn't carrying you needed help with…?" Drew said when she didn’t elaborate. Katie jumped, as though she'd forgotten he was standing there. He couldn't help but laugh. "What is all this, anyway?"

"Oh." Katie turned back to it, her eyebrows drawn together. It really looked like a pile of pointless junk, didn't it? "Well, you remember my battery idea?"

"Don't tell me this is it?" Drew said, his eyes widening.

"Oh, no." She gestured toward the biggest thing on the table; what looked like a glass bread loaf pan filled with foggy goo and wires, with a rectangle of sheet metal glued to the top. "That's the battery part."

Drew was rendered momentarily speechless. "Um…ok…ew."

Rudy barked with laughter. Off to the side Slim and Marcus chuckled, clearly eavesdropping.

"Don't mock scientific progress," Katie said, narrowing her eyes jokingly at Drew.

He held up his hands. "I'm not mocking scientific progress, I'm just grossed out by what scientific progress looks like," he said, laughing.

"Yeah, uh…" Rudy cleared his throat. "I'm a little afraid to ask, but what's with the tapioca pudding in there?" he asked, gesturing toward her battery, his nose slightly wrinkled.

"It's actually more like Jello," Katie said. Her face was completely serious, it wasn't until Drew snorted that she realized Rudy had been kidding.

"You made a psychic battery out of jello?" Malcom asked, stepping closer. He sounded incredulous, almost mocking, but he looked interested.

"No!" Katie said quickly. "Well, kinda- Lemme start over." She waved her hands, frustrated. Drew did his best to stifle his laughter while she collected herself. "I had to make the collection dealie bop first," She ignored the strangle snorting sound coming from Drew at her saying 'dealie-bop', "At first I was gonna try and make something that drew from ambient energy, like the aura, but the more I thought about it, the more that seemed like a bad idea."

Malcom was nodding. "There's no good way to control the intake it if you do it that way," he said, mostly to himself. He was staring at her battery, and if Katie had noticed, her hackles would have gone back up. But she was too excited and busy talking about her invention.

She moved over to her battery, pointing out a small contraption connected to it with two cables. "So I put together something similar to that thing Banks have now, to check your ID. It'll stab your finger with a tiny lancet, and with that temporarily open wound, the machine can draw the psychic energy directly from you." As she was saying this, Malcom's head snapped up to stare at her. She didn't see because she was facing Drew, but Rudy did. He was looking at her in shock, even a little awe, as though she was a monkey that suddenly started speaking English.

"Then I had to figure out something that would store the energy, obviously," Katie continued, oblivious. "That was the big thing, right? Well, I'd read way before about the electrical conductivity of jello, so I thought why not, let's give it a shot. I hooked it up and tried charging it."

"And it didn't work?" Drew finished.

Katie grinned. "No, not exactly. It contained the energy I was putting in, but as soon as I stopped, it dissipated almost instantly." She shrugged. "It looked really cool though. The fruit started glowing." She giggled.

"Why would you put fruit in gelatin you were using to experiment?" Malcom asked, frowning.

Katie bit her lip, her eyes widening. "Uh…it wasn't my jello." Drew eyebrow's shot up, and Rudy double over in laughter. "What?" Katie whined defensively. "I didn't hurt it, and it's not like anyone was going to eat it anyway. _Mildred_ made it." She visibly shuddered. "Who puts prunes and dried figs in _lime jello_?" she muttered.

"So I guess the vanilla pudding worked better than the lime jello?" Drew asked, glancing over at the battery.

Katie huffed, nearly stomping her foot. "It's _not_ pudding!" she said grumpily. "It's nanocrystalline silicon particles suspended in a gelatinous matrix!" That she could continue sounding indignant throughout that mouthful was amazing even to her.

"Once again, in English," Rudy said, looking amused.

Katie sighed, deflating. "It's like quartz pudding," she muttered. She narrowed her eyes when she saw Drew shaking with suppressed laughter. "It's actually more of a gel though," she added obstinately.

"You said pudding," Drew retorted, grinning.

"It's _gel_ ," Katie growled through clenched teeth. Drew laughed, and she shook her head, smiling in spite of herself. "In any case, the gel is what's keeping the silicon particles stable. Try to charge quartz up by itself, it shatters. Also kind of cool to see, but not very constructive…"

So how can you be sure _this_ is holding a charge?" Malcom asked, looking over at her finally. "It just looks like goo to me." He sounded just a little bit off, but Katie wasn't sure why. She shrugged it off, though. Probably just uncomfortable around psychic stuff. Most people are, after all.

"It's definitely holding a charge," Katie said as she stepped closer to the table. She picked up a small black box attached to the top of the battery by two of the many wires coming out of it. "This is a biofeedback meter, I've had it attached since yesterday. There is absolutely energy rolling around in there," she said, nodding toward the pan of goo. "And if there was any degradation, it was too small for this to pick it up."

"Well, it sounds really cool and sciencey," Slim piped up, leaning on the side of the car he was working on. "But what’s it doing down here? Wouldn't have pegged you for a showoff."

Katie shook her head rapidly. "Oh, no, see," She bustled around the table for a second, and pulled up a small light bulb, which also appeared to be wired to the battery. "There's energy, but I think I made the battery too big." She said, furrowing her eyebrows. "I'm almost tapped out and I don't seem to have reached capacity." She looked up at Drew, who'd finally stopped laughing, and turned back to the light bulb, frowning. "And for some reason, I can't seem to get this to light up," she said, sighing. "I thought maybe I hadn't charged the battery enough, so I was going to ask if you'd mind helping me charge it."

Drew nodded, but looked troubled. "I don't mind helping, but…"

Rudy finished for him. "I don't think that's the problem, Kate," he grunted.

Katie grimaced, glancing between the two of them. "Oh, no. What am I missing?"

"It's an incompatible form of energy," Drew said, mirroring her grimace. "The light bulb was made to run on electricity, not psychic energy."

"I don't understand," Malcom said, frowning. "There are dozens of types of biofuel in use today-"

"But their product is all the same," Rudy argued. He was a bit more gruff with Malcom than Katie usually saw him, but the stranger put her on edge too, so she wasn't about to call him on it. "It's either gonna combust, or it's gonna generate electricity."

"Well, all she'll need to do is hook up a generator or something, right?" Slim asked, frowning at Rudy.

Drew was already shaking his head. "First she'll need to figure out how to get a reaction from it."

Rudy made an affirmative grunt. "Yeah, a generator isn't gonna do much good when the energy is just sitting there. It needs a reaction of some kind before it can convert that energy into electricity." He shrugged. "Without it, that stuff will just sit there forever. Like the world's most disgusting leftover pudding."

Katie groaned, slumping over nearly double. "I knew this was all coming together too easily…" she muttered.

Drew wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "Hey, don't worry about it. Just because it doesn't work yet doesn't mean it's not hugely impressive."

Katie straightened up, but continued to pout. "I don't know the first thing about generators…" she muttered, sounding close to whining.

Drew rolled his eyes. "Right, because that's ever stopped you?" he asked sarcastically. He could see her trying to fight a grin. "You can't fool me," he continued. "This time next week you'll have this entire building running off of psychic batteries."

Katie paused for a moment, and then sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right," she said morosely, as though they were talking about a terminal illness she'd find a cure for a day too late. Drew laughed and shook his head.

"So, is this the sort of stuff they're teaching at that school?" Malcom asked. He sounded off again, a little too smooth, like he already knew the answer to his question.

"Well, no," Katie said sheepishly. "This is just something I'm working on."

"Really?" He raised his eyebrows. "Well, is anyone helping you with this? Like maybe a business sponsoring you, and helping you market your inventions?"

Drew looked thoughtful, but Katie was shaking her head. "No, I'm not doing this for money. I want to help people." The man's eyes flickered as she spoke, losing some of their interest. He seemed almost disappointed.

"You can help people and still earn something for your work, though," Drew said reasonably.

Katie shrugged. "Maybe, but that's not the goal. I'm in it for the science , not a paycheck." She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm a Tesla, not an Edison, I'll have you know," she said haughtily.

"Ok, well how about we get all of this back upstairs, Tesla?" he said, fighting laughter.

Katie nodded and started picking things up. She didn't see Malcom jerk toward her as though he wanted to stop her, but Rudy did. "And sir?" he said, getting the man's attention. "I think your car is almost ready. If you'll come with me to my office and we can get all the paperwork in order so you can be on your way as soon as possible." The words alone were pretty standard for retail and customer service, but the way Rudy delivered them, they sounded more like "You need to get the hell out of my shop."

Katie paused, looking at him strangely from over top of her enormous pile of battery stuff, but he was already leading Malcom away. She wouldn't have been surprised if he'd had the man by the scruff of the neck, with how aggressive he'd sounded a moment ago. But a moment later Drew had her attention again, looking amused as he took half of the pile she was holding and turning to head upstairs. Katie followed him, glancing once over her shoulder.

Malcom was watching her leave, his eyes unnervingly intense. Katie picked up her pace nervously, rounding the corner almost at a jog.

"Hey, cheer up," Drew said soothingly as he helped Katie arrange her things across a makeshift workbench. She continued to pout, so he stopped and moved to wrap his arm around her shoulders. "Seriously, it's not a big deal," he said, doing his absolute best to sound serious rather than amused.

She dropped her head against his shoulder and whimpered. "I was making so much progress!" she whined.

Drew rolled his eyes. "Well, that might be due to you focusing on absolutely nothing else for a week and a half straight," he said reasonably, only slightly sarcastic.

Katie looked down, embarrassed. "That's not true. I straightened up this room, too," she muttered.

Drew laughed. "Yeah, no kidding!" he said, glancing around. The workbench they had been piling things on she had put together by arranging some of the boxes against one wall and covering them with a large plank of wood; what a plank of wood had been doing in an auto repair shop was still a mystery to him. Everything else had been sorted and re-boxed, and stacked neatly against the far wall. Stacked all the way up to the rafters, as a matter of fact, and it was also a complete mystery to him how she had managed that, since there wasn't a ladder in sight. "And while it freaks me out even more, it helps prove my point." He grinned down at her. "You've accomplished an awful lot in a week and a half, you shouldn't be discouraged just because your first invention doesn't work right out of the gate. It's not like you're being graded," he said, quirking an eyebrow.

Her head jerked up and she frowned, seeming almost disgruntled at the concept of being graded on her defunct invention. She shook her head. "That's not it," she insisted. "I just thought I'd done something I hadn't, so I got my hopes up and now I'm disappointed."

"That explains why you're upset now," he said with a small nod. "But it doesn't explain why you've thought of nothing else but psychic batteries and schoolwork for over a week now." He grinned and leaned in. Katie suddenly began to feel very warm. "Despite numerous attempts on my part to distract you," he added in a murmur. He was holding her properly now, his arms around her waist. "Are you sure this isn't all to do with your need to get an A at everything you do?"

Katie shook her head. It was hard for her to think, with him so close to her like this. Is this how Joanne felt around him? _Wow_ he smelled good. He didn't seem like a cologne guy, maybe that was just his soap. Wait, they were talking about something…

"I…" Katie mumbled, trying to clamp down on her racing thoughts. "I just…it takes my mind off…things." Her eyes were locked on a spot on his throat, and her face was beet red. "Schoolwork, I mean. And…reading…and stuff." She was extremely distracted by his hands resting on the small of her back, which was feeling warm and extremely tingly the longer he lingered there.

"I can think of other ways to get your mind off things," he responded, his voice very quiet. But she heard him perfectly. _Oh_ did she hear him perfectly. His face was so close to hers now, she could feel the warmth of his skin. His lips were a breath away from hers, and she was interested to note (at a later time) that every thought in her head came to a grinding halt.

And then…

"Drew?"

Drew cursed, pulling away and staring at the door with a frown. "How did he know…?" he muttered.

"There's someone here asking for you," Rudy continued. Drew rolled his eyes.

"I guess I'll get my kiss later," he said, smiling down at Katie. But she didn’t see; she seemed to be concentrating very hard on her shoes.

He wanted to ask her what was wrong, (she had been behaving rather oddly ever since he'd first kissed her, last week,) but was interrupted yet again. "Drew!" Rudy called again, his voice sounding closer and irritated.

Drew sighed. "Alright!" he called back. "Keep your panties on…" he added in a mutter, releasing Katie reluctantly and moving toward the door.

"I'll do whatever the hell I want with my panties, boy, now get your ass down here!"

Drew paused and stared at the door in disbelief, before shaking his head and continuing. "How on _earth_ …" he muttered. He heard Katie giggle.

Rudy was glowering up at him from the foot of the stairs. "What where you two doing up there?" he growled suspiciously.

Drew shrugged, glancing over his shoulder to see that Katie had followed him to the door. "Oh you know, illicit drugs…" he said nonchalantly. "Perverse sexual activities. A few things with a chicken I'd rather not talk about…"

Katie had both hands over her mouth, shaking with suppressed laughter, but Rudy wasn't as amused. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, uh-huh, ha ha. Well, your visitor is waiting out front for you - she seems to be worried setting foot in my garage will cover her in filth - and I'd appreciate if you would explain to her that I'm not your answering service."

"Her?" He heard Katie ask as he reached the foot of the stairs. He turned and shrugged up at her. He was just as confused.

"Drew!" Isobel crooned when he finally came into view. He visibly cringed. She didn't notice. "Some of my friends said I might find you here!" Her eyes raked over him greedily. She didn't seem all that upset at the fact that he was covered in dirt and grease stains from head to foot. Apparently her aversion to dirt didn't extend to him.

"Isobel?" Katie poked her head through the back door, looking and sounding thoroughly confused.

The charming smile Isobel had been directing toward Drew twisted into something like a sneer and she turned to Katie. "Oh, right, I had heard you got a part time job here," she said, sounding superior. "I hope they're paying you well," she added in a flat tone, giving Katie a once over as well. Unlike Drew, Katie was almost eerily clean, yet Isobel regarded her as though she'd just rolled out of a compost heap.

Katie's eyes narrowed - she wasn't in that good of a mood to begin with. "Well, I'm sure it doesn't pay as well as harvesting _souls_ …" she retorted darkly as she stepped closer to the front of the garage. "But I get by."

"Ok, why are you here, Isobel?" Drew asked as he stepped between them, sounding amused in spite of himself. He glanced back at Katie, who was still glaring at Isobel. He saw her eyes flash dangerously a moment before he felt Isobel latch on to his arm.

"I was planning on going to the mall today," Isobel explained, her voice pitched to what he was sure she thought was an adorably helpless tone. "I need to pick out some new outfits - you know, the ones I have are getting boring - except Myst and Anne are on a double date with their boyfriends." Isobel sighed, pouting.

Drew didn't say anything, he was preoccupied, trying to think of a good way to get her off of him without offending or injuring her. He was coming up blank, but that was probably just because he wanted so badly to offend and/or injure her.

Of course, he was surprised Katie hadn't already beat him to it. From the corner of his eye he saw her cross her arms and shift her weight, pretty clearly irritated. But any other girl he'd dated would be ripping out Isobel's hair by now. Then again, there was a reason those relationships hadn't lasted that long. He shook his head, trying to focus on extracting himself from the pouting Barbie doll squishing her boobs against his arm.

"But I really can't shop for clothes without someone there to give me a second opinion…" she continued, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes. She finally pulled away, and Drew took a deep breath. Between her perfume, her hairspray, her makeup, and her personality, he had been really close to puking.

She clasped her hands in front of her chest, still pleading. "Do you think you could come help me out?" she asked. "It won't take too long, and then we could have lunch! And you know-" she said, tilting her head and grinning at him, "you _did_ say we might hang out later."

Drew froze. How on _earth_ was he going to get out of this? He glanced over at Katie, and almost groaned. She looked pissed, but still clearly sane. So he could forget about a timely cat fight.

It was also unnerving him how little Katie was reacting. And it was unnerving him how much it was unnerving him, because he vividly remembered how every time an ex lost her mind and launched herself at an innocent bystander (who happened to be female and mildly attractive) he wished, _just once_ , he could find himself a sane girlfriend.

And now he seemed to have one. And it was _freaking him out_.

"Drew?" Isobel waved her hand in front of his face, even though he was looking right at her. "So, what do you think?" she asked, when he still didn't respond.

He panicked. "Sure," he said, and promptly winced. He glanced back over to Katie, who finally seemed to be reacting, looking shocked and a little hurt. He turned back to Isobel, who had only just started to grin, the squeal still building in the back of her throat, and added, "But only if Katie can come too."

"What?" Both Isobel and Katie blurted simultaneously. Drew took a step back, feeling suddenly like standing between the two of them was a bad idea.

"I don't think they allow nerds in the mall," Isobel said cattily. "At least not without a leash…or a muzzle."

"Yeah," Katie agreed, to both Drew and Isobel's surprise, who turned to stare. "I bite," Katie explained simply, her expression perfectly serious. Drew snorted. "Besides, I need to research generators."

Isobel looked pleased, and nodded to Drew in a 'Well, there you go' manner. But Drew wasn't going down without a fight. "Well, I did promise I'd help teach you about them," he said, eyeing Katie, who didn't even flinch at the blatant lie. "Maybe I should pass on the mall after all." He turned back to Isobel, doing his best to twist his expression into something like disappointment or remorse.

He could see a muscle in her jaw twitch and she narrowed her eyes at Katie, but she recovered quickly. "You know what? It's the weekend. And it's _way_ too nice to spend it cooped up indoors, studying…whatever boring thing you were going to study," she said matter-of-factly.

Katie raised an eyebrow. "Isn't the mall indoors?"

Isobel ignored her. "I insist that you come." Katie didn't seem in the least bit convinced, still staring at her with one eyebrow raised, so she turned to Drew. "I'll even treat you to lunch," she said with a grin. She started toward her car, as if the matter was settled, but Katie still didn't budge.

Drew moved closer to her. "You could probably use a break," he said, lifting one of his shoulders in a half-shrug.

"Right, because a day with Isobel sounds _super_ relaxing," Katie said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. She wouldn't meet his gaze, staring instead at a grease spot on the floor of the garage.

"I'm not taking no for an answer!" Isobel said playfully, still inching toward her car.

"You'd be with me, too," Drew said reasonably. When Katie didn't answer, he leaned in. "Please don't leave me alone with her," He begged quietly.

Katie finally met his eyes, fighting a smile.

Isobel seemed to be getting incensed with their lack of response. She stopped moving toward her car and turned back to them, frowning. They were way too close to each other for her comfort. "Or _I_ could skip the mall," she suggested, finally regaining Drew's attention. Katie looked up at her in horror. "And hang out with you," she continued, smiling flirtatiously at Drew. Katie's jaw dropped incredulously.

It was completely unfair that they should be stuck with her either way.

She heard Drew heave a tiny sigh as Isobel took another step closer. "No, it's okay. We both need a break, and I was thinking about lunch soon, anyway," he said, earning a look of triumph from Isobel. Katie's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Why," Katie gasped, staring aghast at the thronging crowds milling through the mall…was it a corridor? Walkway? Or was it just considered the hunting grounds for Kiosk people? She turned to Drew, who was shaking with laughter. " _Why_ are there so many people here?" she asked desperately, looking genuinely confused.

"Because, this is where _normal_ people go on the weekend," Isobel retorted snottily.

"But-" Katie choked, squeaking in terror as Isobel started forward. Drew, laughing, wrapped his arm around her waist and led her forward. "But what are they _doing_?"

"Shopping," Isobel scoffed over her shoulder, glancing at Katie like she was brain dead.

"For _what_?" Katie barely managed to squeak. Isobel was hurrying toward a very sophisticated looking store off to the right with an expression on her face that could only be described as grim determination. Katie glanced at the window displays as they hurried after her, raising her eyebrows. There seemed to be a lot of white and off-white lace draped on oddly-shaped mannequins - the kind that didn't look like people so much as abstract sculptures of stick figures - and wondered absently if they were supposed to be wearing clothes. She glanced up at the name of the store and snorted, forgetting her panic.

"La Boutique?" she said derisively. "Are you serious?" She glanced at Drew, who was working harder than ever to fight laughter. "They named the thing 'La Boutique'?" she repeated in disbelief. "Why not 'La Gullible?" she said in an extremely exaggerated French accent.

Chuckling in spite of himself, Drew leaned down. "La crédules," he said.

Katie looked up at him in shock. "Is that La Gullible in French?" she asked in a whisper, they were almost to the shop now.

Drew nodded.

"You speak french?"

He nodded again, grinning at her expression.

"Well, cut it out!" Katie squeaked. Drew raised an eyebrow. "Like you _need_ to be more attractive!" she said, as though outraged.

Drew laughed again.

"Why, Isobel!" a female clerk greeted them as they walked in. "Welcome! May I help you with anything?" Besides her and two more clerks, the shop was (blissfully) empty. Although Katie had to stifle a snort at the woman's fake accent.

Isobel stepped forward and held hands with the woman, looking very self-satisfied, while the woman, in turn, looked down her nose at Katie's extremely oversized sweater and Drew's oil-splotched jeans. His shirt, at least, was clean; he had changed it in the parking lot with one he'd stored in his car, (something Katie would have greatly enjoyed watching, had Isobel not shown up in time to sneak a peek as well.)

"Oh, Maria, it's so good to see you!" Isobel drawled, as though they were old friends. "I know it's a bit early, but I was hoping I could take a look at Sonic's winter collection." She smiled and winked. "Assuming you have it, of course."

Maria raised an eyebrow. "Madam Isobel, are you forgetting where you are?" she said haughtily. Katie practically stuffed her fist in her mouth to stifle the laughter. Her understanding of French didn't extend far beyond 'baguette', but she knew Isobel was no Madam. "The winter collection arrived over a week ago." She smirked, glancing at the other two clerks, who had been preoccupied grimacing at Drew and Katie's clothes. "I think we could give our best customer a look, don’t you?"

Katie leaned closer to Drew. "Sonic?" she asked, completely confused. The only thing she could think of when she heard that was a blue hedgehog.

"He's a designer," Drew explained reluctantly. "Paul Sonic, but people 'in the know' just call him 'Sonic' with a kind of sick reverence." He narrowed his eyes. "Please don't ask me how I know that," he muttered.

Katie rolled her eyes as the others started to bustle around, heading toward what must be the super-secret 'back room' to fetch 'Sonic's' winter collection. "Is there a word in French for 'pretentious?" she muttered sidelong to Drew.

"Yeah," he muttered back, nodding. "'French'."

Katie doubled over, overtaken with giggles. Maria shot her a withering stare.

"You're going to tell me what you think, right Drew?" Isobel called flirtatiously. She seemed to be making a point of ignoring Katie altogether.

Drew's eyes widened. "Just as much as I usually do…" he answered haltingly, sending Katie into a fresh torrent of giggles. Luckily, Isobel wasn't paying attention, already being led toward the dressing rooms in the back of the store by Maria.

"I hope you're still a size six," she was saying to Isobel, her accent fluctuating between French and British. "This collection doesn't come any larger, you see."

Isobel was flapping her hand dismissively before she finished. "Oh, of course, of course," she said, her voice taking on a nasal quality as her tone got snootier. "I wouldn't even be surprised if a six was a bit loose on me, you know. Since I've started that new diet, I've been positively waifish."

Maria tsked. "Isobel, I am always in awe of your vocabulary."

Isobel glanced smugly over her shoulder at Katie, who had followed them to the dressing room; but she was glancing between the white upholstery on the chairs nearby and the jeans Drew was wearing with a dubious expression, so she missed the exchange entirely.

Drew, however, didn't. "Oh, uh, Maria?" he said in an undertone, leaning in. She blinked at him. "I think you've got a bit of something on your nose there," he whispered, frowning and looking quite serious. Maria brushed her hand against her nose, and Drew nodded as though she'd gotten it. Katie bit her lip hard to keep from laughing.

"Ok…" she said quietly while Maria and Isobel were distracted by the arrival of the other two clerks carrying dozens of articles of clothing sealed in garment bags. Drew turned to her, smirking. "This is turning out to be more fun than I expected," she admitted.

Drew's chuckle was drowned out by a high-pitched squeal. They turned to see Isobel freaking out over a short, wispy looking light blue dress that she had just retrieved from one of the garment bags. Katie raised an eyebrow. "That’s supposed to be for _winter_?" she muttered incredulously to no one in particular. It looked to her like a nightie.

"Oh, this is just lovely!" Isobel cried, holding the 'dress' at arm's length so she could admire it. "It's the perfect color, the perfect length, _oh_ it's just _perfect_!" She turned and darted into the dressing room.

Maria, meanwhile, looked extremely pleased with Isobel's choice. Katie wouldn't be a bit surprised if that little blue dress was the most expensive item in the store.

"Hey," Drew whispered, leaning closer to her. "Bet you ten bucks that it doesn't fit her," he said, grinning mischievously.

Katie smirked. "I'm not making bets with a precog," she whispered back. He made a face, but she continued. "Besides, how would she even be able to tell? Vampires don't have a reflection."

Drew made a strangled sort of noise, and Maria looked over sharply, watching the two of them suspiciously. She didn't have long to glare at them, though, only moments later Isobel emerged from the dressing room looking aggravated.

"Maria!" Isobel snapped, distressed. "They've mislabeled my dress!"

Isobel stood on the small stage-like area by the dressing rooms, looking at her back in one of the three full-length mirrors set behind her. The dress, which looked so delicate on the hanger, was doing a remarkably good job holding itself together as it strained against Isobel's not-quite-a-'four' figure. The straps were cutting into her shoulders, leading the fabric extending from them to poof up at odd angles. Her breasts were doing their best to escape out of the neckline, and the hem of the skirt was much higher than it seemed like it should be, falling about halfway up her thigh.

"This is clearly a four!" Isobel said, pouting down at Maria.

"Well, then, you really _must_ have lost weight!" Maria said, not missing a beat. "Because that dress looks _marvelous_ on you, darling."

Katie smirked. Maria may not be French, but there was no denying she was a saleswoman.

Isobel twirled for the mirror, smiling. "You really think so?"

" _Of course_!" Maria insisted, loud enough that no one but Katie could hear the muffled, choking noises of the laughter Drew was trying so hard to stifle.

"Will you want to be trying anything on, miss?" One of the clerks startled Katie, appearing near her elbow. He seemed like the nicest of the three, but he was still wrinkling his nose at her over-sized sweater, the hem of which fell almost as low as Isobel's 'dress'.

"Oh, abso _lutely_ not," Katie said, a little more vehemently than she meant to out of shock. Maria and Isobel both frowned at her, and she tried to backpedal. "I mean, it's all very pretty, but-"

"Don't worry about it, Andre," Isobel said with a raised eyebrow, smirking down at Katie. "It's not like she could _afford_ any of this, anyway."

Katie flinched, but managed to nod sadly to Andre. "She's right, you know," she said, doing a decent job on her mock-depression. "The money I would usually budget toward becoming a _form of decoration_ got put toward becoming a valuable contribution to society..."

Isobel continued as though she hadn't heard. "Besides, even if she could afford anything this nice," she drawled with a cruel laugh, stepping down from the stage. "What _good_ would it do?" She disappeared into the dressing room before Katie could come up with a good retort.

"She's right you know…" Drew muttered in a pretty decent imitation of her, and Katie turned to look at him in shock. He widened his eyes innocently. "Well, it doesn't seem to be doing _her_ any good, does it?"

Katie relaxed, laughing weakly.

Drew sighed, frowning. "Got less fun suddenly, huh?" he muttered.

Katie shrugged, her smile still a little weak. "Well, it would have been difficult for it to have gotten _more_ fun," she said, dropping onto the chair. "But hey, I'll keep my fingers crossed. She could still rupture something and keel over trying to get one of those dresses on."

Drew laughed outright, startling the others and earning a harassed look from Maria.

But to Katie's everlasting disappointment, Isobel did not keel over, but for the next half hour continued to try on whatever Maria handed her (which Katie was still absolutely certain were the most expensive items the woman could scrounge.) And even worse, nothing else fit nearly as badly as that first dress.

Katie sighed as Isobel twirled for the sixth time, wearing a neat cream pantsuit and looking very upper crust. "You know, this never takes this long in the movies."

Drew laughed from his position at her feet. He had arranged himself in a crosslegged position on the floor after earning a dirty look when he moved to sit in one of the chairs. (Katie swore Maria had hissed like a cat.) "Yeah, and the clothes are more interesting…" he continued her thought.

"The girls are hotter…" Katie said, keeping it going.

Drew grinned. "Not that I would notice."

Katie giggled. "Plus there's music," she finished.

"Maybe that's what we're missing," Drew mused, glancing over at the two male clerks (or 'the henchmen', as Katie had started calling them.) "Hey guys, either of you have a radio?"

Katie snorted, nudging him with her foot while the henchmen both shook their heads. "It's not like there's a song in existence that could drown _her_ out," she muttered, jerking her head toward Isobel, who was turning back toward the dressing room.

"I'd like to try something with a skirt next, Maria!" she called over her shoulder. Katie stifled another groan.

"Hey, why don't _you_ try something on?" Drew asked, looking back over at her.

Katie froze and stared at him. He wasn't grinning, he…he looked _serious_.

As if reading her mind, he grinned. "I'm serious," he said, and Katie's jaw dropped. "It's gotta be more fun than sitting here watching this idiot parading around like a beauty queen."

Katie appreciated the disdain in his voice, but still shook her head. "Are you insane?" she squeaked. "Right now Isobel only _thinks_ I'd look like an idiot in her type of clothes, you think I'm gonna give her an opportunity to prove her theory?"

Drew rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. You _know_ you'd look better in that blue dress than she did." He nodded toward the discarded blue dress, hanging on the 'maybe' rack. (which everyone knows is really the 'no' rack.)

"No I don't!" Katie answered a little too fast. Drew raised an eyebrow and she sighed. "Ok," she amended unwillingly, "but a baby _hippo_ would have looked better in that dress."

Drew shrugged, smiling. "But you admit you'd look better than Isobel?" he asked, less like a question and more like a statement, as he started to stand up. "I could even get it for you, if you like it-"

"Don't you dare," Katie growled, cutting him off with a glare. He furrowed his eyebrows at her, confused. "The only time I'm ever going to be flouncing around in a dress made of tissue paper is when I'm in the hospital," she said, her voice still a little growly.

Drew laughed and took her hand, pulling her up from the chair. "Please just try it on?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.

Katie gulped. It was so much _harder_ for her to think when he was this close. She nodded dumbly before she could stop herself, and grimaced when she realized what she had done. Before she could make an attempt to change her mind or stop him, Drew turned and retrieved the blue dress from the rack.

"Just promise you won't laugh," she muttered quietly, when he turned back to her.

He frowned. "Katie, I would _never_ -" he began, but Maria seemed to finally notice their activity.

"Can I _help_ you?" she interjected, not sounding friendly at all and looking as though she wanted very badly to yank the dress from Drew's hands.

"She's going to be trying this on," Drew said, his voice firm. He didn't seem in the least bit apprehensive, looking suddenly like the type of person who was used to people like her doing exactly what he told them without question.

"Well…well…" Maria faltered, taken completely off guard.

"The second dressing room's alright?" he asked, and led Katie toward it without waiting for an answer.

Katie allowed Drew to drag her to the dressing room. The glare she shot him as he handed her the dress and closed the over-long curtain was halfhearted and resigned.

Drew moved back to the chairs, but didn't sit. Maria was still eyeing him warily, as if unsure what to make of him. It wasn't long before he heard a curtain swish, but it wasn't Katie.

Isobel emerged from the first dressing room, wearing a loose, draping blouse and a skirt that bunched up at her waist and knees, poofing out in the area in between. She posed for him as she stepped out, like she did for every outfit, but started when she saw that he was alone.

"Oh, did Katie leave?" she asked, sounding disappointed, but looking quite pleased. "I guess she got bored, huh?"

"No," Drew said, taking immense pleasure in her confusion. "She's trying out that blue dress," he explained, pointing toward the second dressing rom.

"What?" Isobel asked, her voice flat.

Drew smiled. "You remember? That blue dress that didn't fit you?" Both Isobel and Maria flinched at his candid speech. "I thought it might fit her better. She's tiny, you know."

Isobel looked like she had swallowed a lemon. She didn't move toward the stage, instead turning to stare at the curtain shielding Katie from view.

As if on cue, the curtain slid aside as Katie left the dressing room. The sneer that had already begun to curl on Isobel's lips froze in place as she appeared.

Without her bulky sweater masking her figure and making her look as though she'd been swallowed whole by a ball of yarn, Katie looked slim, petite, and delicate. Similarly, the dress -now that it was put on someone that was the appropriate size- draped elegantly over her form, the hem fluttering just above her knees. With her dark hair swept back in its usual bun, Katie looked far more couture than anyone else in the shop, even with how clearly nervous she was. She bit her lip as she glanced around, finally stopping at Drew, who was grinning openly at her.

"You look _beautiful_ ," Drew said with conviction. Isobel thawed at his words, her jaw and fists clenching. He gestured Katie towards the mirrors, and Isobel tensed as she passed her.

But Katie didn't seem all that interested in her reflection. She just stood there, fidgeting, one leg folded behind her, tapping her toe nervously on the floor. As she clenched her hands stiffly behind her back and glanced down at the floor, she actually looked remarkably like a ballerina.

Drew motioned for her to twirl, and her shoulders slumped. "Must I?" she whined, looking exasperated. Drew just grinned. "If I twirl, can I change back into my clothes?" she asked petulantly.

Drew laughed. "Yes."

Katie huffed a sigh, and stood on the balls of her feet, rotating slowly in place.

Isobel moved to stand beside Drew, glaring at Katie. "It looks really nice on her, doesn't it?" Drew said, clearly enjoying himself. He glanced down at Isobel, who was narrowing her eyes. "Looks like it might be a little loose, even," he said, eying the way it was bunching up slightly in the back.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Isobel muttered darkly through clenched teeth.

Drew glanced down, frowning, at Isobel. He saw her eyes flash just as he heard the distinct sound of ripping fabric.

His head snapped up, looking at Katie in shock. She also looked shocked, doing her best to cover with her hand the tear that had appeared right on her hip.

"What happened?" Maria cried, rushing up to her.

"I-I don't know!" Katie gasped, looking around her rapidly. "It felt like it...like it _caught_ on something, but-"

"There's _nothing for it to have caught on,_ " Maria growled. She looked furious, Katie looked panicked, and Isobel looked extremely pleased. "Stupid girl, do you have _any idea_ how much that dress is _worth_ -"

Drew stepped between them, looking down at Maria with the same air of superiority, but accompanied by an intense fury. She stumbled backward, her eyes wide. "It doesn't matter," he said, his voice quiet and even. "I was already planning to buy her the dress, and it needed to be altered anyway."

Maria sputtered, seeming offended that someone could suggest _altering_ a Sonic gown. But Drew ignored her. "You can ring it up while she changes," he said, his tone finally betraying his anger. Maria took another step backward, snapped her mouth shut, gulped, then turned on her heel to stalk toward the register.

Drew turned back to Katie, catching a glimpse of Isobel as he went, who seemed to be getting annoyed. Katie, on the other hand, looked like she was trying not to hyper ventilate. "It's okay," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"I don't know what happened," Katie said quietly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"I think I do," Drew murmured. "And whatever it was, it wasn't your fault." He squeezed her shoulders and smiled reassuringly. "Why don't you change back into your clothes?" he suggested in a louder voice.

Katie nodded and turned to walk back to the dressing room, her hand still pressed firmly against the tear on her hip.

Drew turned to Isobel, whose glower shifted immediately into a dazzling smile when she noticed his attention shift. But Drew's eyebrows were furrowed, he looked curious and a little suspicious. "Exactly how far have you gotten in telekinesis?" he asked her.

Isobel's eyes widened innocently. "We're levitating leafs right now," she said. "I'm best in my class though, I can keep mine up the longest." She beamed, seeming quite proud of herself, but there was something off about it. Drew wasn't quite satisfied. "Why?" Isobel asked after a moment, her eyes still wide and innocent.

Drew shrugged, looking away. "Just curious. We haven't gotten very far in precognition. It's pretty boring so far."

Isobel seemed to relax. "Yeah, first semester for me was pretty lame, too. All of those prerequisites are _so_ boring." She groaned dramatically. "I just paid one of the nerds to do my essays for me." She laughed and Drew grinned at her. "I could probably send you copies of them, if you want. Save you some time."

"I might take you up on that," he said, raising his eyebrows. Then he stretched, fully aware of Isobel's eyes dropping to the bit of his abs that was exposed when he did so. "Well, I don't know about you," he grunted. "But I'm ready for lunch."

"Huh?" Isobel shook herself. "Oh, yeah. You know what? Me too. Just let me change out of this…" she said, gesturing toward her outfit. She glanced over her shoulder. "Maria? I'll take everything I tried on. Oh, well, except the ripped dress." She chortled. She grinned at Drew before running back toward her dressing room. Katie was just coming out of the second one, and Isobel gave her a smug look before drawing her curtain.

"Sir?" Maria called. "Your transaction is ready," she said with a tone of mild disbelief, as though she still wasn't sure he'd actually be able to pay.

Drew turned to walk to the register as Katie reached him, still holding the torn dress. She seemed a little desperate as she looked up at him. "I have _no idea_ -" she started, but Drew interrupted her.

"I think Isobel did it," he said to her in an undertone.

Katie blinked at him. "Isobel? She was standing three feet away…"

"And she's telekinetic," Drew said matter-of-factly. Katie snorted, and he shook his head, leaning closer. "I mean think about it, there wasn't anything there for the dress to catch on. It certainly wasn't too _small_ -"

"That doesn't mean Isobel ripped it telekinetically!" Katie said in an incredulous whisper. "They're still…redirecting _soap bubbles_ -"

"So she can't read ahead?" Drew asked, raising an eyebrow. "You do. She might have a talent for it."

Katie's jaw dropped in shock and disgust. "The only thing that over-inflated airhead has a talent for involves a mattress and cheez whiz." She shook her head at his raised eyebrow. "Don't ask."

"Well, do you have a better idea?" he asked. He looked torn between laughter and exasperation.

"Sir," Maria called again, raising her voice in annoyance. "Your total-" She broke off when Drew glared, shaking his head slightly.

He glanced at Katie as he handed her his credit card, but she seemed to have completely missed the exchange, frowning and lost in thought.

"You know…" she said, after a moment. "If she really can use her telekinesis with a decent amount of control…she could be really helpful…"

Drew's eyebrows shot up. "Her? Are you serious?"

Katie nodded vigorously, looking up at him. Maria was handing him back his credit card with a look of absolute astonishment; she seemed shocked the charge had gone through. "If I could observe her practicing some simple, telekinetic actions-"

Drew rolled his eyes. "You're not still worrying about your experiments, are you?" he asked. "We're supposed to be taking a break."

"Yeah, but this could make a _huge_ difference though!" Katie insisted.

Drew sighed, turning back to Maria and taking the bag and receipt she was holding out to him. "And exactly how do you plan to convince Le Paris barbie in there to help you?" When he turned back to her to hand her the bag, Katie was staring at him with wide eyes. He froze. "No."

"Please?"

"You have to be joking."

He heard a violent swish of a curtain behind him as Isobel thrust herself out of her dressing room. From the way it sounded, he got the impression that she was trying to make a glamorous entrance. "I know _just_ where we can go for lunch!" she said. Drew suppressed a shudder. "It's the most _charming_ Italian place right on the other side of the mall!"

"Let me guess," Katie said with a bright grin. "Il Ristorante?"

Drew snorted before he could catch himself, and Isobel frowned. "No. I've never heard of that one, is it around here?" she shrugged and turned to the register before Katie could answer. "Anyway, it can't be all that great of a place if I've never heard of it."

Katie caught Drew's eyes, and they both looked away, stifling laughter.

"Katie?"

Katie turned to see Joanne running toward her from across the mall…you know what, she was just gonna call it 'corridor'.

"Is that actually you? In a _mall_?" she asked when she reached her. Her jaw nearly came unhinged when she saw the La Boutique bag she was carrying. "No way, I _know_ they're not paying you that much!"

Katie looked down at the bag, having forgotten she was even carrying it. "Oh, no, uh…" She glanced over at Drew, who had also stopped and was grinning at Joanne (who hadn't noticed him yet.) Isobel had stopped a few feet further ahead, and was looking irritated at the interruption. "Drew got it, it kind of, um…ripped." She grimaced. "I'm going to pay you back," she muttered, as if she had only just remembered that he had spent money on her.

Drew shook his head, holding up a hand to dismiss the idea, but was distracted by Joanne. Having finally noticed him, she was slowly turning sideways to put him out of her line of sight. She seemed to be trying to be subtle, but it was anything but. The hand he was holding up to Katie moved to cover his face while he shook with quiet laughter.

"So how did he manage to get you to go to a mall?" Joanne asked, her voice quiet and a little squeaky.

Katie gestured behind her, to where Isobel was starting to tap her foot. "Isobel invited Drew, who invited me, so I just…tagged along," she said. Joanne's eyebrows rose, and Katie hurried to change the subject. "And what are _you_ doing in a mall?" she asked. "I thought crowded places were over stimulating for you?"

Joanne nodded. "Oh, they still are," she said, and turned to point toward Adrian, who was taking his time catching up with her. "Adrian is trying to help me get over it, that's why we're here. We just came from the bookstore, actually. You want one?" She held out her shopping bag, which seemed to contain a stack of books.

"Ooh!" Katie cooed, leaning over to look into the bag.

Isobel finally lost her patience, possibly due to how amused Drew seemed by the two girls' antics. "I thought we were hungry?" she snapped.

Joanne looked over at Isobel with wide eyes. "Well, you know that's what she eats, right?"

Adrian had finally reached them. "She eats books?" he snorted, raising an eyebrow.

She nodded. "She's a book monster, she feeds on books and stories." she said, quite seriously.

Katie grinned, curling her fingers and making a clawing motion. "Rawr."

Drew doubled over with laughter, and even Katie started to giggle. But Isobel seemed to be fed up. "Drew?" she called, trying to be heard over their laughter. "Drew, they'll be closing to prepare for dinner soon! Why don't we let Katie socialize with her friends while _we_ get a table?"

Drew straightened immediately, looking suddenly quite serious. "Katie?"

Katie grimaced. "No, you're right, we should hurry," she said, starting to turn away from Joanne. Before she started walking away she shot her a significant look, and mouthed "I'll explain later."

Joanne frowned, but nodded, as Katie rushed to catch up with Drew and the testy Kinetic.

"Well, that was…interesting," Katie said, as Drew pulled into her driveway. She seemed reluctant to use the world 'fun.'

Drew laughed. "I guess 'interesting' is as good a word as any. I'm sorry to put you through that."

Katie smiled and shrugged. "I've been through worse, I'm sure," she said. Drew noticed her glancing out at her house as she spoke.

As eager as she had been to leave the mall, and then the restaurant, Katie didn't seem all that eager to get home. Now that he thought about it, she never really seemed too eager to get home. Whenever he brought her to her house she only ever seemed to look at it with dread, exhaustion, or a kind of steely determination. He wanted to ask her about it, but wasn't sure how to go about doing it.

"Besides, lunch was good," she said, shrugging, bring his attention back to the present.

Drew snorted. "The food, maybe."

Katie grinned. "Oh, come on. It must be at least a _little_ amusing to watch Le Paris barbie pick around all of her noodles while you ate an entire loaf of bread by yourself."

"I'd probably have been more amused if it wasn't punctuated by her whining about all the cheese," Drew muttered.

"I don't know what she expected from an Italian restaurant," Katie said, snorting. "Anyway…" She paused awkwardly. "I…I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" The squeak in her voice making it into a question. She glanced back at the house again. Today seemed to be a 'steely determination' day; she was taking a deep, bracing breath as she undid her seatbelt.

Drew stopped her before she could get out of the car, grabbing her arm and pulling her in for a long awaited kiss.

He'd only managed to do this six times since last week (NOT THAT SHE WAS COUNTING.) but she had hoped by now she'd have gotten at least a little more used to it.

She really hadn't.

He had been almost overwhelming to look at when she first met him, he was so handsome. But that was nothing to his kisses. They threw her thoughts into total disarray and left her completely breathless. Every area where his body made contact with hers, from his lips against hers to his hand on her back, felt like molten fire from the surface of her skin all the way down to her bones. It was devastating, terrifying, and wonderful.

A few moments, and he pulled away, gazing down at her with half-lidded eyes. "See you tomorrow," he murmured.

"Mmhmm…" Katie blinked slowly. Wasn't she supposed to be doing something? As he pulled further away, straightening up in his seat, her thoughts came back to her.

Right. Home. Leave the car. Adam. Mildred. Ugh.

She took another bracing breath. And then another, because after a kiss like that, one really wasn't enough. Then she opened his car door, and stepped out.

It wasn't until the next morning that she found out she had been robbed.


	6. 106 - Bon Guinea Pig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katie commences with her new experiments, with the help of Drew. She and Drew have their first fight.

**106 – Bon Guinea Pig**

"I don't understand why you're not more upset about this…" Rudy grunted, watching Katie flit around a temporary workspace she'd set up near Drew's project car. "You've been _robbed_ , Kate."

"Well, there's not much I can do about it now!" Katie said, frowning. Despite Rudy's words, Katie was clearly upset. Over the past week and a half, although she had been working nonstop at her job, experiments, and schoolwork, she had managed to constrain herself to moving at a more acceptable, human speed. But now she was arranging tables and unfamiliar doo-hickeys at a pace that was already making Rudy uneasy. The only times she stopped were to scribble something furiously in one of her many notebooks, which were stacked at one end of the table.

"I'm putting a lock on that door," he grumbled, as though determined to continue complaining.

"It _had_ a lock, Rudy," she said without looking up. She frowned. "Whoever is was just cut it off-"

"Which is why I'm installing a deadbolt," he interjected. "You think I'm just gonna buy you another padlock?" He sounded incredulous. It was actually the most agitated she'd ever seen him.

"You don't need to buy me _anything_ , Rudy," she said with a desperate edge to her voice. She was picking up speed with her work. Rudy was starting to get dizzy. "It's not like we've got shady characters lining up around the block to steal faulty junk from a college student!"

"Well, we had at least one!" he pointed out stubbornly. "You know who it was, right? It was that Malcom person. The minute that guy stepped into my shop, it was obvious he was one of those…what was it? Shady characters. That's him. He was asking too many questions, leering at you-"

Katie grimaced. "Yeah, you know, he seemed a little odd to me, too…" she muttered.

"Uh-huh, 'odd.'" Rudy snorted. "You're not allowed to bring this stuff downstairs any more, you understand?" he added firmly, less of a question than an order.

Katie finally faltered in her work, pausing long enough to look over at him with wide, defensive eyes. "I only brought it down because I wanted to show you, and I needed Drew's help!"

Rudy wasn't swayed. "And the next time you need help or want me to see something, you can call us _up_ ," he insisted gruffly. Katie had turned back to her work, but (thankfully) was moving much slower.

Katie eyebrows were furrowed. "But you're always busy…" she said sadly, moving jerkily despite speeding back up.

He grunted. "I'd rather be interrupted than have you brandish your life's work around untrustworthy strangers," he said, sounding surprisingly paternal.

Katie appreciated what he was saying, but she couldn't help but giggle. "Life's work?" she squeaked. "Rudy, that battery took me a week."

"You know what I mean," he said, looking slightly disgruntled. "Just promise me, Kate."

She managed to master her expression before she answered. "Yes, okay, I promise," she said seriously, only a shadow of a smile evident on her face. "No more show and tell."

Rudy watched her with raised eyebrows as she continued to fiddle with what looked like an old-fashioned laptop. She didn't give any indication that she noticed, so finally, he cleared his throat. "That means this too, Kate," he said when he'd gotten her attention.

Katie jumped. "Oh, no!" she said with a quick shake of her head. "This isn't an invention, it's an experiment. Drew's going to help me."

"And he can't help you upstairs?" he asked, exasperated.

Katie's face got very bitter very fast. "Better I were robbed ten times over than allow Isobel in my lab," she said drily. "She doesn't know it's me she'd be helping, _she_ thinks this is all for Drew."

"And Isobel is…?"

"A Telekinetic from my school," she answered promptly.

Rudy blinked. "And you're experimenting on her because?"

Katie fought a grin. It sounded like a lot more fun the way he said it. "I need to observe telekinetic activity at a neural level in action," she said all in one breath.

"Ok, now again in English."

Katie opened her mouth, paused, and closed it, tilting her head in thought. "I need to watch her brain doing psychic stuff," she said after a moment.

"Ok, let me get this straight," Rudy said, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "You're going to do experiments on a girl from school who, I get the impression, doesn't like you?" Katie nodded. "And to get around this, Drew is pretending the experiments are for him?" Katie continued to nod, and Rudy shook his head. "And she _agreed_ to this?"

"Oh, she hasn't yet," she said, turning back to her weird little laptop. "But she wants in his pants, so…" she explained with a small shrug.

"Does she?" Rudy snorted, glancing skyward. "Well, what could possibly go wrong?"

"It occurs to me that you might get more accomplished if this skank would pay more attention to the experiment then your boyfriend's ass," Joanne said, her voice dry, as she looked out one of the few windows in the lab.

Katie looked up from her computer - she had an entire station set up in a corner to monitor the experiment downstairs. "She's not-she…" she muttered, distracted. She looked back at her screen, which was streaming video from the webcam built in to the ancient laptop she'd left with Drew. She could see, nauseatingly clearly, Isobel's eyes pointed directly at Drew's butt. "That _skank_ ," she growled.

Joanne turned to look at her from the window. "Well, in her defense, if Drew's pants were any tighter we could put a quarter in the back pocket and see if it has a head…"

Katie straightened up, looking over at her friend with a quizzical expression. "…What's a 'quarter'?"

Joanne shrugged. "I dunno. It's what my dad says when he doesn't want me to wear things."

"Those aren't going to leave a permanent mark, are they?" They could hear Isobel ask over the connection. She was pointing toward the electrode patches Drew was holding out. "I have to go to a party later, you see…"

Joanne was crossing her fingers. "Please leave a mark, please leave a mark," she muttered.

Katie narrowed her eyes as she caught Isobel ogling Drew's chest, now that he was facing her. "If only we could reverse the flow of electricity…" she grumbled.

"Would a zombie even feel it?" Joanne asked.

"No, it's just adhesive," Drew was telling Isobel. "It's what'll let me monitor your brain, or whatever."

"Assuming she _has_ a brain," Katie muttered darkly, watching Isobel inch closer to _her_ boyfriend.

Joanne eyed Katie, sympathetic. "You knew she had the hots for him," she said reasonably.

Katie's cheeks flushed. "Yeah, well…" she said, frowning. "That’s…that's why she's helping," she finished, feeling pathetic.

"Right," Joanne said, raising an eyebrow. "Because _Drew_ couldn't possibly convince _any other kinetic_ to help him?"

Katie slumped in her seat. "Well, except, the thing is - I think Isobel might be better trained than she's letting on," she explained.

"You cannot possibly be serious," Joanne said, her voice flat. " _Isobel_?"

"Oh, that's right, I never told you what happened at the mall!" Katie realized. She quickly explained about the mysterious dress-ripping incident.

"And you think it was Isobel?" Joanne asked incredulously. "I'd sooner believe in invisible tigers running around making a hobby of ripping expensive dresses."

"Joanne," Katie said, looking up from her laptop to give her friend a significant look. "You _do_ believe in invisible tigers."

"Just because you never saw it doesn't mean it wasn't there!"

Katie laughed, turning back to the computer. "Anyway, what else could it have been? And Drew's pretty sure…"

Joanne seemed to have quite a few things to say about that, but was restraining herself with visible difficulty. Finally she turned to glare at the computer screen. "And are you going to have her ripping things here?" she asked. She seemed way more irritated with Isobel than Katie did; Katie actually looked almost defeated.

"No," she said, frowning as she watched Isobel lean closer to Drew. It seemed like she couldn't do any of the actions Drew was asking for without intimate assistance from him. "But if she's better trained, anything she does do will make for more accurate readings."

"Yeah, if only she'd _do_ something," Joanne scoffed. "The last time I checked, aggressive flirting wasn't a telekinetic power." She looked over at Katie, her eyes suddenly wide. "Or is it?"

Katie snorted. "That would explain why I suck at it."

Joanne was by the window again, so she didn't notice at first when Katie went silent. It wasn't until she felt her panic that she turned back around. Katie was working frantically over her computer, though the only difference that Joanne could see was that the wiggly lines on the bottom of the screen had gotten wigglier. "Katie? What's wrong?"

"There's some kind of interference…" Katie muttered distractedly.

And then Joanne heard, through the window rather than the computer (which she found odd) Isobel laugh and say, "I'm so sorry, I have to take this, it's my mother."

"Uh…Katie?" she started to say, but didn't get a chance to finish. The next second the computer started making the most horrible noise she'd ever heard in her life. It was as though someone had dropped a guitar into a woodchipper.

She glanced back through the window. Isobel had walked off, but Drew appeared to hear the soul-destroying sound as well, because he seemed intent on turning off anything within reach. Katie had the same idea, and a moment later the only sound in the room was her heavy breathing.

She looked up at Joanne. "What _was_ that?" she squeaked, still out of breath.

"I think it might have been because of Isobel's phone," she said weakly, rubbing her ears.

"Where was the call from, _hell_?!?" Katie bent double, her hands on her knees, as she tried to catch her breath.

"Well, she did say it was her mother," Joanne said, shrugging.

"Oh, mother, I _told_ you." Isobel's voice carried easily up to the lab. If Joanne didn't know any better (HA! Right.) She'd think Isobel _wanted_ to be overheard. She moved closer to the window and cracked it open. "I'm helping a friend out with a project he's working on!" Isobel continued. Joanne rolled her eyes.

She turned to Katie to proceed with some extremely satisfying mockery, but was brought up short. Katie seemed entirely focused on a notebook she was scribbling in. "Um, Katie…what are you doing?"

"Hm? Oh," Katie held up her notebook, showing her a page littered with equations.

Joanne blinked. "In english?" she asked finally, after unsuccessfully trying to interpret the scribbles.

Katie pouted. "Why does everyone keep saying that?" she grumbled, and sighed. "I'm trying to figure out how the cell phone interfered with the sensors."

"Oh, good lord," Joanne looked slightly horrified. "Please tell me you aren't going to try and _recreate_ that demonic screeching??"

"Ugh, _no_!" Katie grimaced. "No, I want to make sure it doesn't happen again." She turned back to her notebook as Joanne breathed a sigh of relief, but jumped up a moment later when she heard Drew's voice drifting up through the window. She crouched down near the window, her head just barely poking up above the sill. Joanne was standing right in front of it, as visible as a person could possibly get (aided immensely by her canary yellow blouse) and she just watched her being sneaky, thoroughly amused.

"I just know my parents would _love_ to meet you!" Isobel was insisting, leaning in toward him. Drew was turning the laptop back on in an effort to avert his eyes from her ample cleavage. "And I really want to spend more time with you, you know?"

"Well, I’m not going anywhere," Drew said, managing a charming (if a little strained) smile. "We have time. But I really should get started on this." He gestured toward the laptop, which, as though to be deliberately contrary, was still booting up.

"I think you could use a break," Isobel said, moving close enough to press against his side.

"We've only been working for fifteen minutes," Drew said with a laugh. "Besides, I'm not exactly dressed for a party," he pointed out, pulling away and gesturing toward his clothes. He was dressed, as he had been the day before, in a grease smudged tee-shirt and jeans. They may even have been the same ones, though Katie got the impression that his entire wardrobe was like that.

Isobel seemed to want to continue arguing, but Drew was ushering her toward the garage. "You should probably get going," he was saying, his voice raised just slightly, to drown out her objections. "Your mother sounded pretty irritated, and I don't want you to be any later than you already are."

"Oh, you're so considerate!" Isobel turned and, in a move so sudden it could only be called an ambush, embraced him. Upstairs (thankfully, out of earshot) Katie made a sound like a cat being trodden on. Joanne snorted quietly, and Katie jammed her elbow into her knee.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then!" She heard Isobel call, and turned her attention back to the window just in time to see her disappear through the back door to the garage.

Drew lingered where he stood for a minute, craning his neck to, presumably, watch Isobel leave. Then, without any warning, he spun on his heel and started dashing up the stairs to the lab, taking them two at a time.

Katie was standing by the time he tore through the door and slammed it behind him, leaning against it as though worried Isobel could still follow behind him. "Was that as much of a nightmare for you as it was for me?" he asked.

"It was kind of entertaining, actually," Joanne said. She was suddenly wearing a pair of sunglasses she had pulled out of nowhere. "Kind of like a horror movie."

"It was all I could do to keep from screaming 'Run for it!' whenever she turned away," Katie said, grinning. She turned to move back to her computers.

"When the computers started screeching I was worried she was summoning her minions to eat your soul," Joanne said cheerfully. "Have you figured out what that was about?" she asked, tilting her head and turning halfway toward Katie.

Drew answered for her. "The radio waves from Isobel's cell were getting picked up by the electrode on her face, and the computer translated it into white noise," he said simply. He was looking at Joanne with a confused expression, so he didn't see Katie's jaw drop at his explanation. "So, um…what's with the sunglasses?"

Katie laughed and Joanne blushed. "She sharpied the insides of the lenses," Katie said.

Joanne waved, her face pointed somewhere over his left shoulder. "Hi!"

Drew laughed and shrugged. "Well, if it works…" He circled around Katie and hugged her from behind. "And now she can't see me do _this_ ," he said, making no attempt to keep his voice down.

Katie flushed bright red, and Joanne made a gagging noise. "I don't know what you're doing, and I'm pretty sure I don't want to. But I’ll say ‘ew’ just in case," she said in a very loud voice.

"He-he's just _hugging_ me!" Katie stammered. She was staring at the computer, which was booting up much faster than the one downstairs.

"Don't believe her!" Drew said, grinning. "We're having grown-up sexy times-"

" _Drew_!" Katie squealed, her face beet red as she tried to squirm out of his arms.

"Eeeew!!" Joanne was giggling, but Katie looked like she was about to pass out.

"Oh, good!" Katie blurted suddenly, sounding immensely relieved. Whether it was at something she saw on her screen, or at an opportunity to change the subject, no one could be sure.

"What?" Drew asked, looking over her shoulder.

"All of the data is still there," Katie said, pointing toward a box of streaming wiggly lines.

Drew almost choked. "You couldn't possibly have gotten anything from that fiasco downstairs?" he asked, incredulous.

"I'm surprised she got anything at all," Joanne said. It was impossible to tell what she was attempting to look at. "I was sure if we tried to listen to Isobels brain, we'd just get an echo."

"That's actually not far off of what we actually got…" Katie said as she examined the incomprehensible squiggles.

"Don't tell me you can actually _read_ that?" Drew was still watching the screen over her shoulder, baffled.

"You know, that's an interesting philosophical question," Joanne perked up. "Can you read someone's mind if they haven't got one in the first place?"

Drew laughed, but Katie rolled her eyes. "You can't read people's minds, idiot or otherwise."

"Well, then, what's all that?" Drew asked, gesturing toward the screen. He still had his arms around her and she was getting a little too warm and flustered.

She gave her head a little shake, to try and clear it. "I'm, um… I'm not seeing _what_ she's thinking, so much as _how_ she's thinking."

"With difficulty?" Joanne retorted. This time, even Katie had to laugh.

"So _how_ exactly was miss Boutique thinking?" Drew asked.

Katie rolled her eyes again. "With her 'little' head, so to speak," she said drily. "She only did any real telekinesis once or twice, and it'll be a job and a half to isolate them from her flirting." She was frowning at the computer as if it contributed to Isobel's flirtation.

"Well, why don't we worry about that later?" Drew asked, hugging her tighter and turning his face into her neck.

But Katie didn't seem to notice. "You know, now that I think about it, maybe we should keep it simpler next time," she said absently. "Like, on-off, positive-negative…" She trailed off.

"Like binary?" Joanne asked.

"Yes, exactly!" Katie said, sounding a little over-excited. She reached for another notebook, pulling away from Drew in the process.

"Really, Katie?" Drew asked, standing aside as she started scribbling and typing rapidly, almost at the same time. "Don't you think you could use a break?"

Katie paused, frowning. "What do you mean? We only just started." She sounded genuinely confused. "I still have to isolate the telekinetic anomalies and create a profile for them so I can identify them easier later on-"

"Katie, you've been working nonstop for, like, a week!" Drew interrupted her.

"That's not true!" Katie argued. "I went with you to the mall yesterday!"

"Where you _talked_ about work." Drew sounded slightly amused, despite being frustrated.

"Besides, you were with Isobel, "Joanne added. "That's more work than actual work."

Drew laughed. "Excellent point." He turned back to Katie, who was still clutching her notebook. "Come on," he said, his eyes perhaps a little more intense than he meant for them to be. "Let's do something _fun_."

Katie's blush flared from pink to scarlet, and she looked away. "I should really get started on this, though," Katie said in a small voice, avoiding his eyes.

Drew was hit with an intense surge of déjà vu. It took him a second to realize that that was exactly what he'd just said to Isobel only a few minutes before to try and fend her off. Making the connection wasn't comforting.

"I was going to order pizza," Joanne said. She couldn't see his troubled expression through her Stevie Wonder glasses. "If we don't feed her, she'll keep working until she falls asleep at her desk."

"That sounds cool," he said distractedly. "I'll just go work on my car."

Joanne frowned, her face, for the first time, turned directly toward him. "Are you okay?" she asked, reaching for her sunglasses.

Drew shook his head, which neither of them saw. "Fine," he said, and turned toward the door. "Let me know if you need any more help."

"You did the exact same thing with Kevin…" Joanne said petulantly, sitting on a pile of boxes she had claimed for herself and set up near the window.

Katie gasped. Kevin was a low blow. Joanne had sworn never to speak of Kevin again.

As if reading her mind, Joanne added, "I've been trying to get you to take me seriously since yesterday!" She sounded slightly guilty, but firm. "And if I have to bring K-.. _him_ up to slap some sense into you, well… well, I just will!"

Katie groaned. Joanne had been spouting dire, ominous warnings about her relationship with Drew since the afternoon before. "I thought you told me Kevin was a blowhard?" Katie asked, in the same exasperated tone she'd been forced to use for nearly twenty-four hours now.

"He _was,_ " Joanne said fiercely. "But Drew _isn't_ , and you're doing the same thing!"

"I didn't _ignore_ Kevin, and I'm not ignoring Drew!" Katie grumbled. "And I can't believe you'd bring up _Kevin_."

"Well, how else am I going to get your attention?" Joanne frowned and glanced out the window for the fifth time in five minutes. "I know you're afraid of commitment and all-"

Katie sat bolt upright. "I am _not_ afraid of _commitment_!" she squeaked.

Joanne turned back toward her. "Well you're afraid of _something_ , and it's gonna screw up your relationship!"

Katie moved closer to her computer, as though it would block Joanne out. "Yes, yes, I know, my demi-god boyfriend is going to dump me and start dating my arch-nemesis if I don't start paying attention to him," she snapped. "It might surprise you to know, Joanne, Drew isn't five years old. He knows I'm working on a deadline-"

"There's always gonna be a deadline for one thing or another, Katie!" Joanne cut her off. "You need to find a balance, not shove people out of the way. And if everything's still all sunshine and daisies, _why is he still not here_?" She glared out the window once more, practically snarling. Joanne rarely got worked up like this; she tried to avoid situations that would get her upset, but Katie was her best friend.

She turned back to Katie to see her waving her phone at her, though she was still facing her computer. "Isobel says her car's in the shop," she muttered. "He's giving her a ride."

Joanne snorted. "You don't _actually_ believe-"

"No, I don't, and neither does he!" Katie cut her off this time, defensively, turning in her seat. "He's not stupid, Joanne."

Joanne's jaw clenched, and she looked like she was going to snap back, but after a moment, she dropped back down into her seat. "I don't wanna fight with you Katie," she sighed.

"I don't want to fight with you either!" Katie's tone hadn't caught up with her words, she still sounded angry and defensive. Joanne giggled, but Katie found with her sudden lack of opposition that she was on the verge of tears. She turned back around quickly, but, of course, Joanne could still tell. She stood up and went to hug her. "I really like him," Katie admitted, her voice muffled by Joanne's shoulder and the mucus that was building up in preparation for her imminent weeping.

"Well, he hasn't dumped you _yet,_ " Joanne said thoughtfully. Katie's laugh sounded a little like a sniffle. "Maybe just make it up to him today, instead of fiddling with your computer?"

Katie finally pulled away and nodded. "You're right." Wiping her face quickly with the back of her hand. "I think it might have to wait until after he takes Isobel home, though. He's already picked her up and they'll be here any minute…"

"Do you honestly think he'll be upset if he has to take Isobel right home so you two can have a date?" Joanne asked, amused.

Katie shook her head. "It's not that. Isobel doesn't even know I'm here."

Joanne looked confused. "I thought she knew you worked here?" she asked. Although that _did_ explain why she had been the one to drive Katie to work the past two days.

"She thinks my shift ended, or she wouldn't be coming," Katie said, wryly.

Joanne groaned. "Well, maybe it'll be over quickly," she said. Katie gave her a watery smile, and she shrugged. "If it seems like it's taking too long, I'll go down and break them up."

Katie snorted. "That'd be worth seeing…" her voice dropped drastically when she heard Isobel's laughter drifting up through the open window.

"Of course, Mercedes only said that because she was jealous…"

Katie turned back to her computer and started typing, but paused when Joanne leaned down to whisper in her ear. "No adult sexy fun times, though," she said, grinning at Katie's blush. "He's not that level of upset, and you've only been dating a couple of weeks." She jumped out of the way before Katie's slap could land.

"Have you ever been to a society party?" Isobel asked as Drew placed the electrodes on her forehead.

"A few," Drew muttered. The entire car ride he'd had to listen to her detail and criticize the outfit of everyone who had attended her parent's party the night before. The last five minutes of the drive he had been deathly afraid he would fall asleep and crash.

"Well, I still wish you had come," Isobel said with a cute pout. "You would certainly have been the most attractive person there."

Drew just laughed and turned to look at the notes Katie had left for him. He was having trouble keeping Isobel at arms length today, and he wasn't sure if it was that she was getting better, or if he was getting worse. A small part of him knew he was just enjoying the attention. And a very small, vindictive part of him (which he was trying to ignore) wanted to make Katie feel guilty and jealous.

"We're just doing simple stuff today," he said, reaching for the flat light switch Katie had wired to the computer.

"Already?" Isobel whined. "But we've barely talked at all!"

Drew gave her a chiding look as she pouted. "Isobel, we barely did anything at all yesterday…"

"I'll say…" she muttered, smirking slightly.

Drew grinned before he could stop himself. "I really need you to pay attention today. We'll have time to talk when I take you home, won't we?"

Isobel sighed dramatically. "Ok, fine."

"Good." Drew set the light switch down on the table near her. "Now, I just want you to switch this on and off a couple of times."

Isobel barely glanced at the light switch, and it flipped immediately to the 'on' position.

Drew's eyebrows flew up. "Well, that didn't take long."

Isobel smirked. "If only it was as easy to turn _you_ on," she said suggestively.

Drew chuckled. "Just a few more times , not too fast," he said in response.

Isobel continued to flirt during the tests, getting bolder and bolder the longer she went without Drew blatantly shooting her down. It was all still verbal during the light switch test, but when they moved on to opening and closing a small coin purse, she took every opportunity to touch him. Brushing her arm against his, nudging him with the toe of her boot, or pressing her chest against his back as she was looking over his shoulder at the computer. By the time they started on one of Rudy's extra tires, which Katie had set up on a track for her to push forward and pull back, Isobel was practically nuzzling his neck.

It wasn't until they finished with the tire that she started to whine. "This is getting really boring," she said as he turned to consult the notebook. "Please tell me that was the last one? I wanna do something _fun_."

'Just a few more," Drew said, bracingly. In all honesty, he was getting eager to finish himself. Isobel's flirting was getting to be a little too much, even for that small vindictive part of him. He reached for the feather Katie had pinned under a stack of notebooks nearby, wondering how Katie might take it if he stopped early.

That vindictive bit seemed to throb when he imagined her upset with him for delaying her work.

He turned back to Isobel, who was leaning up against his car and had started to pick at one of the electrodes on her forehead. He held out the feather and cleared his throat to get her attention. "You're just going to lift this up to press against my hand," he said, placing one of his hands palm down over the other. "And then down again into my other hand."

Isobel sighed, but nodded. The feather immediately floated up to press into his upper hand, and then back down to press into the other one. It felt very odd to him, not as though an invisible hand or some other type of force was pushing it down, but rather like the feather had suddenly become rigid and was pressing down of its own accord. It was almost as if he were holding a very heavy feather.

Focused as he was on the feather, he didn't notice Isobel's expression turn devious. But he certainly noticed a second later when some unseen force yanked him forward, so he crashed into Isobel and pinned her to the car.

She laughed. "Now _this_ is more fun!" she said playfully.

Drew just stared at her, shocked. "Did you just telekinesis me into you?"

Isobel's eyes widened, just as they had when he'd asked her about her telekinesis in the shop the other day. "No!" she said innocently. "I think you just secretly _wanted_ to press up against me."

"Oh, an empath now, are we?" Drew jumped at the sound of Joanne's voice calling angrily from the upstairs window.

He started to pull away - this had gotten way out of hand - but jumped again when he heard a door slam open. He turned to see Katie descending the stairs from her lab. "What the _hell_ are you _doing?_ " she cried as she rushed towards them.

For a split second he felt relieved. Finally, a reaction he was accustomed to. But the relief vanished when he saw that she wasn't looking at Isobel, but at him. And she wasn't glaring, either. She looked angry, but she also looked hurt.

Guilt welled up, but he ignored it. "Oh, so I _do_ matter? Well, that's good to know."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Katie asked, her voice catching. She stopped a few feet from them, and Drew saw tears beginning to well up in her eyes. "Of course you matter, why wouldn't you _matter_??"

Drew felt an uncomfortable surge of guilt, but he was at a complete loss at how to react. He was almost grateful that Isobel's irate cry of, "What is _she_ doing here?!" nearly drowned Katie out.

Isobel's behavior was something he was used to. He still didn't know what to say to Katie, so he fell back on the one thing he _did_ know: Charming and/or lying to spoiled, airheaded heiresses.

But as he turned away from Katie and opened his mouth to lie, she cut him off.

"I'm here because these are _my_ tests," Katie said bluntly. Drew felt sick at the sound of the tears she was holding back seeping into her voice. "He was doing this as a favor to me. Drew doesn't _care_ about school, why would he care about this? And he didn't even _like_ you." She ignored Isobel's indignant squawk, and didn't seem to notice Drew flinch at her use of the past-tense. As a matter of fact, she seemed to be avoiding looking at him altogether. "But it's fine," she continued, collecting herself. "I don't need any more help. From either of you." She turned back to the stairs without a single glance toward Drew, brushing past Rudy as she rushed back to her lab.

Rudy, who had come out to see what all the commotion was, glanced between Katie's retreating back and Drew. "I'm no expert," he grunted. "But if I were you, I'd go after her."

"Well, _I_ want to go home," Isobel snapped, snatching up her purse and staring at Drew. Of course, she seemed to have forgotten she still had electrodes attached to her forehead, so she actually looked quite absurd.

Drew looked at Rudy, then back at Isobel, (who had suddenly noticed she was tethered to a computer and was tugging on the electrodes.) He felt almost panicked. What was he supposed to say to Katie? 'So sorry I was acting like a child, I'd completely forgotten I'd finished with puberty six years ago'?

He could see, out of the corner of his eye, Rudy start to frown as he hesitated. He opened his mouth, wanting nothing more than to blame the entire situation on Katie. _She_ was the one who wanted to experiment, _she_ was the one who asked him to help, it was all _her_ idea…But he choked on the words. Even the small, vindictive part of him knew better.

"I…" he muttered, looking at the ground rather than Rudy. In all honesty, he was utterly petrified at the idea of facing Katie right now."I'm the one who drove her here," he said pathetically, feeling like a coward.

Rudy probably felt the same way, but all he did was grunt. Drew heard him turn to walk back into the garage as Isobel stalked off toward the parking lot.

He followed after her, feeling miserable. He glanced over his shoulder, up at Katie's lab, before he turned the corner. Joanne was standing in the window, looking _right_ at him, without even a hint of a blush. He wasn't sure why, but that made him feel about ten times worse.

"Okay!" Isobel blurted suddenly.

Drew jumped, startled. She had spent the last ten minutes of the drive in complete silence. He assumed she was fuming, like girls like her generally did, and was grateful for it. He was still trying to think about what he was going to say to Katie. While part of his concentration was going toward counting the seconds until they got to Isobel's house, hoping she would continue to give him the silent treatment until he was free of her, it was still easier for him to think clearly as long as she was quietly furious.

Isobel turned to face him, apparently ready to talk. Drew groaned inwardly.

"I forgive you," she said, smiling charmingly. Drew, caught completely off guard, snorted. But she had started talking again and didn't notice. "I'm not gonna sit here and be mad at you just because you were helping some nerd with her science experiment," Isobel said, smirking indulgently. "In fact, it's actually kind of sweet."

Drew wasn't sure how to respond, so he kept his mouth shut. But he began to press a little harder on the accelerator.

"I mean, we're going to have to explain to Charity," she continued, her voice almost bubbly. Drew's shoulders tensed at the nickname. "I mean, I'm not sure if you noticed, but it looks as though she's gotten a little attached to you. You know how it is with those bookish people, they get a little taste of popularity and then they just latch on." She chuckled.

Drew's eyes narrowed and his foot pressed a couple of millimeters further down on the pedal, but he found that it was suddenly much easier for him to think of what to say to Katie…

"That's why I never feed strays, you know, exact same thing," Isobel continued. "But we've just got to make it clear, just because you were being nice to her _does not_ mean you're her boyfriend." She tapped the side of her hand on her knee forcefully as she spoke, and then started to laugh. "I mean, really! Can you _imagine_?" She chortled.

Drew came to an abrupt stop on the street outside her house, throwing Isobel forward so she smacked her head on his dashboard. He found the hollow thunking sound her head made to be very satisfying.

"I actually don't find that difficult to imagine at all," Drew said flatly.

Isobel straightened in her seat, rubbing her forehead. "What?" she asked. She was staring at him in confusion and what looked like almost the beginnings of fury.

"Listen, Isobel, I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, or if you feel like I led you on," he said, frowning at her. "But let me be perfectly clear. There is no 'we'." He gestured rapidly between them. "We are not a couple, we never will be a couple."

Isobel just stared blankly at him. He glanced at the clock impatiently. "I'm dating Katie, alright?" he said, his voice getting a little sharp. "Which, by the way, is her _name_. Not Charity, Katie. I really like her. She's smart, and funny, and interesting. You are none of those things." He stopped, biting his tongue. He didn't need to insult her or get her angry, he just needed her out of his car. He sighed roughly. "Listen, you're home, why don't you head inside?" He gestured toward her house.

Isobel made a odd sound, something between a growl and a squeak. "Now, wait just a minute," she snarled, "Are you telling me that you'd rather hang around with that scrawny, frumpy, dorky-" she struggled, sputtering, for a moment. " _Nerd_?!" she screeched.

Drew raised an eyebrow. "Yes."

Isobel threw her hands into the air, "Well, that's just fine!" she said, and then scrambled to get out of the car. "You can take this ancient car," she wrestled the door open, "And you can go back to that rusted out old garage," She yanked roughly against her seatbelt while she groped the floorboard for her bag. "And play _scientist_ with that toothpick you call your girlfriend," she sobbed as she finally managed to make it out onto the sidewalk.

Drew leaned over the console, frowning. "I'm sorry," he said, and almost meant it. He hadn't expected her to sound so upset. She seemed more the type to swear revenge than to cry herself to sleep over a tub of ice cream…

She spun on her heel, crouching to look at him from the sidewalk. He had assumed she was crying from the way she'd been talking, but now that he saw her face her eyes seemed totally dry. "Oh, you're sorry?" she said in that same shaky, whining tone of voice that sounded so much like crying to him. It seemed _so_ out of place when coupled with the enraged expression her face had twisted into. "You think so? Because you have _no_ idea!" She stepped back and slammed his door shut. "If you think you're sorry now, you just _wait_!" she screamed, her voice carrying clearly into the car.

Drew watched her as she stalked up the drive to her house, before turning back to drive away. _There_ was the malice he'd been expecting.

"Do you think she put a spell on him or something?" Myst asked dopily. Isobel had Myst and Anne on a three-way call as she paced the length of her room.

"Don't be stupid, Myst," Isobel snapped. "We're psychics, not witches. There's no such thing as _spells_."

"But this doesn't make any sense," Anne interjected. "Why would anyone choose some dorky nobody over the hottest, most popular girl in school?"

Isobel scoffed, pausing and sneering at tiny glass figurine on her vanity cabinet as though it were Anne. "Please don't talk about this like we're still in high school, okay Anne? This isn't a popularity contest. I'm just _better_ than her."

"Of course, that's what I meant," Anne amended.

"But wait," Myst faltered. "I thought he asked you to study with him?" Since she nearly always sounded confused, Isobel paid no mind to the confusion in Myst's voice. "Anne told me that when a cute guy asks you to study with them, that means-"

"We weren't 'studying'," Isobel cut her off impatiently. "He was _using_ me to help that skinny little book-burrowing _twit_ with her _experiment!_ "

"What a jerk!" Anne chimed in without a second's hesitation, Myst only half a beat behind her with, "Butthead!"

Isobel started pacing faster. "And then after _lying_ to me, after _leading me on_ , and-and _flirting_ with me-" Between the pacing and her anger she was starting to pant. "And after I actually _forgive him!!_ I _forgave_ him! He has the _nerve_ -" She stopped dead in the middle of her room, glaring unseeingly at her bookshelf, which was filled with all of her beautiful, fragile touch-me-nots. "He has the _gall_ to tell me that he would _never_ be with _me_??" she shrieked.

Over the sounds of her friends' commiseration Isobel was shocked to hear the distinct sound of shattering glass.

Isobel blinked, watching as glass shards flew in every direction from the area in the center of her bookcase where three small figurines had formerly been arranged.

She collapsed onto her bed, still staring at her bookshelf, barely even hearing her friends through the phone. Had….had _she_ done that?

It didn't look like anyone had left by the time Drew got back to the garage. All of the cars that had been there were still there. But Joanne was leaning against hers, looking as though she were waiting for someone.

Drew got out and started walking toward her. When he was about ten feet away, he stopped, and paused. "Are you waiting for Katie?" he asked quietly after a moment, sounding resigned.

Joanne shook her head, but still wasn't looking at him.

"Me?" he asked. She nodded. He hesitated. The air around her felt heavy, and Drew started to feel apprehensive. He had been so worried about what he would say to Katie, it had never occurred to him to worry about Joanne. She always acted so friendly and sweet, or silly, like a comic relief character. It was startling for him to remember that she was, in fact, an empath. And Katie's _best friend_. The school treated empaths like love-mongering hippies, but had any of them ever been around one who was like this?

"Listen," he started, without even meaning to. "All that stuff, what happened earlier, I didn't-"

Joanne shook her head, bringing him up short. "You don't need to explain yourself to me," she said. She didn't seem angry, just extremely serious. "I was there, I know what you were feeling. Probably better than you do - no offense."

"None taken."

"The thing is," Joanne continued, still not looking at him. "Katie is my best friend. We've been friends since kindergarten, I know her about as well as anyone." She paused, frowning. "Her first and last boyfriend cheated on her," she said, bluntly. Drew felt his stomach plummet. "And you're hotter than he could ever hope to have been," she added.

"Now, wait, that doesn't mean-" Drew started, but stopped dead when Joanne lifted her head to look him directly in the eye.

"I know you're a good guy, Drew. But you're not perfect. You're used to getting what you want, and it's made you impatient." Drew's eyes widened. She spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, as though she'd known him all his life. She couldn't have gotten that just from _empathy_ …could she?

She leaned a fraction of an inch closer, and for the first time in his life Drew suffered the extremely unpleasant feeling of intimidation. That it was coming from a redheaded girl a head and a half shorter than him was just salt in the wound. "A relationship with Katie will take more time and effort than you're used to," she said. "But if you can't, or won't, take that time and effort to maintain a relationship with my best friend, you tell her _now_." She turned away, looking straight forward again. Drew swallowed thickly, feeling suddenly like he'd just run a mile.

He was saved from having to respond by Rudy.

"Oh, you've come back then?" Rudy grunted from the door to the garage. He was holding an oily rag and was standing well to the side of the garage door. A second later Drew heard an engine rev, and an old-fashioned sedan started rolling out into the parking lot. Rudy, however, paid it no mind. He was still frowning at Drew. "I take it you've decided to stop behaving like an ass, then?"

Drew swallowed again, and nodded. "Yes," he said firmly, glancing at Joanne out of the corner of his eye. "I was just about to go apologize."

Rudy nodded and turned back toward his office, with one last grunt. Drew wasn't sure (he didn't speak 'Rudy' as well as Katie or the rest of the crew,) but he sounded like he approved.

He turned to assure Joanne, and maybe get some advice about what to say to Katie, but she was already climbing into her car.

"I was only waiting around in case you didn't come back," she explained before he could ask. She'd gone back to avoiding looking at him, but she was keeping up the eerie behavior that made it seem like she could read his mind. "She's still up in her lab."

"You're _abandoning_ me?" The desperation in his voice was mostly for humor, but Drew couldn't help feeling like it might be easier to talk to Katie with Joanne there to run interference.

But she just scoffed. "It's not _my_ mess," she retorted.

"Seriously, Joanne, just go," Katie muttered when he stepped through the door. He glanced around as he set the bag he was carrying down at his feet. She wasn't at her desk, but had folded herself up on the floor in between two large boxes and was fiddling with a bundle of wires and scrap metal. "I'm fine. Really," she said without looking up.

"I'm not," Drew said honestly. Katie stiffened and stopped with her tinkering, but didn't turn around. "Katie, I'm really sorry," he said quietly.

She hesitated for a moment. "For what?" she asked, her voice a little too high pitched. She started to mess with her wires again, only now it seemed like she was just getting them tangled.

He sat down on one of the boxes next to her. "I was a complete jerk," he said. "I should never have let Isobel get that close."

"Why not?" Katie asked, her head still down. "She's popular."

"Yeah, and a _cow_ ," Drew responded promptly, frowning. "Katie, please look at me." She didn't move until he reached down and put his hand under her chin. She lifted her head, but she was still looking away. Her eyes were red, and when he caught sight of them it was like a slap in the face.

"Joanne said she was annoying you," Katie said.

Drew nodded once, dropping his hand. "She was."

She looked up at him then, her eyes confused and red from crying. "Then why didn't you stop her?"

Drew grimaced. Of course Katie would cut straight to the point. "I guess…part of it was that I liked the attention," he admitted reluctantly. "And I think I kind of wanted to make you jealous."

Katie didn't say anything, turning back to her tangled ball of wires with an expression that was, if anything, _more_ confused.

"It's just-" Drew continued in a rush, "You act so different around me now, and I don't know why. You blush all the time, and you won't look me in the eye, you barely talk at all- It's like I'm dating _Joanne_!" She lifted her head sharply, looking almost irritated. Which, at least, was better than tears. He sighed. "It just seems like the more I tried to spend time with you, the more you avoided me. And I thought maybe you weren't really interested in me, and you didn't know how to tell me-"

"That's not it!" Katie interrupted him.

Drew shook his head. "Well then, what changed? Because I don't understand why you never seem to want to be around me-"

"Well-…well, I don't understand you!" Katie said, standing up without warning and frowning at him in frustration. "You're popular and completely hot, and I am _neither of those things-_ "

Drew stood up too, facing her. "I'm popular _because_ I'm hot, and why the hell would I be interested in someone who _is_ 'either of those things'?"

Katie still looked angry, but Drew was so much taller than her she felt like she'd lost the high ground. She started to deflate. "You seemed pretty interested today!" she said after a second.

"I wasn't _interested_!" Drew sputtered. "Isobel nauseates me, I'd rather spend the day with a half-eaten elephant carcass, but at least she wants me _around_."

"I _do_ want you around!" Katie cried, actually stomping her foot. "I just…" She floundered, looking away. "I get so nervous and... and I-i'm taking medicine for it-" she hesitated, but he didn't seem phazed so she continued. "But it could be weeks before it makes a real difference, and until then I just get so stuck in my head and I don't know how to _act…_ so, so I just..." she trailed off lamely.

"I have noticed you tend to work when you're anxious." Drew sighed. "I'm sorry I didn't make the connection, I guess that was just me being self-centered. But as far as how to act, just act like you've always acted! You're cool! That's why I wanted to date you in the first place!"

Katie looked taken aback, flattered in spite of herself. "Cool?"

"Yes, cool!" Drew said, like Katie earlier, his tone not quite catching up to his words. "You're funny and smart and pretty-"

"I'm a _nerd_ ," Katie said blandly, raising an eyebrow.

Drew rolled his eyes. "Yeah, a _cool_ nerd, who makes groundbreaking psychic batteries out of _tapioca pudding_ ," he drawled as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

" Nanocrystalline silicon particles suspended in a gelatinous matrix," she corrected him grumpily, but then she started to giggle, and he relaxed.

"I really am sorry," he murmured. He moved closer to hug her, and she let him, which he took as a good sign.

"I'm sorry too," she sighed. "I don't have a lot of experience with guys, is all. Books make sense. Guys do not." She pouted, laying her head against his chest.

Drew chuckled. "Well, if it helps, I'll stop Isobel the next time she tries to flirt with me." He tilted his head. "I don't know if she will, though, I kind of wounded her pride earlier when I took her home."

Katie wrinkled her nose. "I'll wound something worse if she tries again," she grumbled darkly. "See how she feels about pissing off a mad scientist when she helps me test out my _death ray_."

Drew laughed. "I thought it was going to be a mind control ray?" he asked. He was feeling better than he had felt in days. He really missed laughing at her antics.

Katie shook her head. "No, Hammond already signed the paper, I don't need to bother with some lame old mind-control ray anymore."

Drew laughed again, and nodded over her shoulder toward the mess of wires she'd left on the floor. "Is that the death ray?" he asked.

Katie glanced down, and jumped. "Oh, no!" she said, suddenly excited. Drew shook his head. She was completely back to normal. How many more ways could she be so different from most girls? He hadn't even given her the gift he brought to bribe her into forgiving him yet.

"I started trying to design a new doo-hickey," she continued, darting around him to grab her notebook from the desk. She handed it to him, open to a page with a remarkably intricate design drawn in smudged pencil across both pages.

"What is it I'm looking at?" Drew asked, glancing between the design and the bundle of wires and metal on the ground.

"Well, really, it's just like a lamp," Katie said. "The thing is, I was actually able to isolate some really promising brain waves from Isobel before everything blew up, and I thought maybe we could apply it to turning a lamp on and off."

Drew raised an eyebrow. "Like the clapper?"

Katie blinked. "The what?"

Drew shook his head. "Nothing. So you're trying to make it so anyone can turn a light on or off with their thoughts?"

Katie nodded. "The hardest part, I think, will be the sensor, but the rest is pretty basic…" She pointed around the diagram he was holding, but Drew was frowning.

"I don't think this is going to work," he said, frowning. He was surprised he actually understood everything on the page, most of her writing was greek to him. An interesting feat, considering he actually _was_ greek.

Katie stopped and looked up at him, worried. "What? Why not?"

Drew caught sight of her expression and shook his head. "No, it _could_ work, but this diagram…" He turned back toward the desk and picked up her pencil. "May I?" he asked, gesturing toward the diagram.

Katie seemed surprised, but nodded. He set the notebook on the desk and started altering what she had drawn, his modifications just as well drawn as Katie's had been. Katie watched over his shoulders as he worked, looking both surprised and impressed as he completely redesigned her invention.

"How do you know all this?" she asked after a few minutes. She had spent an hour the night before looking up information about the components she needed, but he seemed to already know all about it.

But Drew just shrugged. "I'm just good at this sort of thing," he said dismissively. "I don't know why. It's why I like working on cars, I think."

Now Katie was looking at him appraisingly. "You tested into Precognition, right?" she asked.

Drew stopped, looking up at her with a raised eyebrow. "Uh…yeah?" She knew this, so why was she asking?

"Well, I think this is why!" Katie said, pointing at the notebook, her old excitement building back up. Drawn on the page was her lamp, completely rebuilt and looking far more viable.

Drew glanced at the notebook and back over at her. "This is a drawing…" he said slowly, as though she'd lost her mind.

Katie shook her head. "That's not what I mean. Precognition is just the ability to intuitively calculate the likelihood of future events, right?"

"I'll take your word for it," Drew said, staring at her blankly.

"It is," Katie said, rolling her eyes. "I'm just thinking, maybe with you it doesn't manifest as well with people or events as it does with machines."

Drew's eyes widened. "Is that even a thing?" he asked. "I don't remember them telling me anything like that when I was being tested…" But it _would_ explain a lot.

Katie shrugged. "Paranormal science is still new, there's a lot that they're still figuring out. I think you're a machinery precog," she finished with a firm nod.

Drew started laughing. He wasn't even sure why. He just felt like laughing as he watched her smiling at him. "It's getting late," he said, setting down her notebook.

"I think you should have a title or something," she said very seriously, but she was grabbing her coat and bag as she talked. "Like…like 'Robot Whisperer' or something like that…"

Drew almost choked on the fresh burst of laughter, and he didn't notice her pause as she faced the door.

"What's that?" Katie asked, pointing at the bag sitting on the floor by the door.

Drew blinked and straightened, still clutching his side and grinning. "Oh, that?" He had completely forgotten about the forgiveness bribe. "That's a present," he said, still grinning.

"A present?"

"Yes."

"For me?" Katie looked completely bewildered.

Drew nodded gravely. "It's customary in a relationship for the man to give the woman a gift if they fight," he said very seriously.

"Oh." She still looked confused, but, he thought, completely adorable. "Really? I had no idea…"

Drew had to brace himself against the desk, he was laughing so hard.


	7. 107 - Midterms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katie has her first success! An ex of Drew's shows up and throws a hissy fit. Joanne wants to show Adrian the new invention, but as they enter the lab, something happens....

** 107 – Midterms **

Katie could feel Drew watching her as she worked. She couldn't help but grin, but at least her face wasn't bright red. It was amazing how much more comfortable she was with him after only a few weeks. "You haven't been working on your car much, recently…" she muttered, amused. She was paying less and less attention to her work the longer he stared

Drew shrugged. "It's getting colder outside," he said casually. " _You_ still haven't worn that present I gave you."

Katie smirked. "It's getting colder outside," she answered, just as casually. "Besides, I'm not sure if that dress technically counts as a present. I was there when you bought it."

"Just because it's not a surprise doesn't mean it's not a present," Drew said. " _Besides_ , I got it fixed and altered, so _technically_ it's not even the same dress."

Katie wasn't even pretending to work anymore. She turned in her seat to look at Drew, who was sitting nearby helping to assemble 'Psychic Lamp mark 3'. "You know, it seems to me that dress is more of a present for you than for me."

Drew's eyes widened innocently. "I don't know what you mean!" he said. "It would _never_ fit me."

"Ugh, will you two _please_ stop flirting?" Joanne was draped listlessly over a pile of boxes in the corner, her sharpied glasses again covering her eyes. By now the boxes in the storage room had been arranged into so many different types of furniture that it was beginning to look like a bachelor's first apartment. "I haven't seen Adrian in _days_!" she whimpered.

"Yeah, actually, where _has_ he been?" Drew asked. He hadn't been present for Joanne's hissy fit two days ago. "The holiday only just started, but I haven't seen him for a couple of days." It was only Tuesday, but IPS gave the students Wednesday as well as Friday off for Thanksgiving, so those students who might want to travel to see their families would have extra time for the trip.

Joanne started to make choking, weepy noises, so Katie answered for her. "His Aunt is in the hospital, and scheduled for a pretty risky surgery today. So he drove down Sunday night so they could have an early Thanksgiving with her."

"Well, then, he should be back soon, right?" Drew asked in a comforting sort of voice, glancing over at Joanne. She just squirmed and made another whimpery noise. Katie grimaced.

"His family wants him to stay for the rest of the break…" she muttered. Drew mirrored her grimace.

"The universe hates me…" Joanne moaned 

"What about you?" Drew asked as Katie turned back toward her desk, apparently attempting to change the subject. "Did you have plans for the holiday?"

Katie nodded. "My parents can't really afford to fly up, and I can't even begin to afford to fly down. _But_ ," She glanced back over her shoulder, grinning, "Joanne, despite her all-consuming despair, managed to save me from whatever Mildred plans to attempt for a Thanksgiving dinner. I'll be celebrating with her and her family."

Drew raised an eyebrow, glancing sidelong at Joanne drooping on her pile of boxes. "She doesn't seem to be in a very festive mood," he said.

Katie shrugged. "The food'll be good, at least."

Off to the side, Joanne managed to lift one of her arms to make a rude hand gesture toward the two of them.

Katie ignored it, fighting laughter as she turned back to Drew. "So what about you? Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?"

Drew's face morphed into an expression she'd gotten pretty familiar with over the last few weeks. It was the same expression that always preceded a long stream of sarcasm, which almost always ended with her doubled over in laughter. "Oh, my family doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving," he said. "So I thought I'd just have a nice relaxing weekend doing all the things I prefer over spending time with my parents…like ripping out my fingernails with a pair of pliers, or playing tag with a feral wildcat…" Katie's face was already dropped into her hands, and she was shaking with laughter. "But apparently the universe hates me too, because they found out about the holiday and flew down this morning." By the look on his face he may have just confessed to having a terminal disease.

Katie lifted her head. "You mean they're already here?" she asked, puzzled.

Drew shuddered. "They've checked into a hotel. They're probably sitting by a pool drinking cocktails and being snobby."

"The pool?" Katie snorted. "It's, like, fifty degrees outside."

Drew raised an eyebrow. "They've got coats."

Katie rolled her eyes at the visual. Joanne shifted over to frown at Drew "So they're not coming here, then?"

" _No_ ," Drew said, shaking his head emphatically. "They think I'm still at school." He narrowed his eyes, glancing between the two of them "And neither of you are to tell them any differently!" he said firmly, just a touch of sarcasm in his voice. "They don't know about the garage, or my car, and it's gonna _stay_ that way."

"I won't," Katie promised solemnly. Then froze. "Wait, when would I?" Her eyes widened. "Am I supposed to meet your parents?"

"Why on _earth_ would I do that to someone I care about?" Drew asked, his face perfectly straight.

Joanne released yet another strangled, tortured noise, and Katie winced. "Oh, back to work," she said, turning resolutely back toward her desk.

"You know, you can be pretty bossy considering I'm not even getting paid for this," Drew said, smirking.

Katie glared at him over her shoulder. "Oh, please, you've only had to make, like, two lamps. I'm on my sixteenth interface. Besides," She glanced over at her friend, who was busy placing the back of her hand dramatically against her forehead. "Joanne's, um… _distraught_. We really shouldn't tease her." She struggled to keep her face straight.

Drew smirked and raised an eyebrow. 

"Shut up, Drew," Joanne growled.

Drew's eyes widened. "I didn't say-" He cut off when an empty box flew at his head. He looked over in surprise at Joanne, who was arranging herself back into her depressed pose. "How can your aim be that good with a blindfold on?"

She shrugged. "Empathy?"

Katie laughed.

" _This_ is IPS?" Valerie muttered, peering though her windshield at the squat, dull brown buildings that made up the campus. "It looks like some hillbilly community college."

She sighed deeply. Of course her Drew would feel at home in a place like this. As long as she lived she would never understand that man's fascination with slumming around with the dregs of society. He could do so much better. He _did_ do so much better, when he had her. That's why he needed her.

She was jolted violently from her thoughts by a loud, jarring sound that she was startled to realize was a car horn. She stared, open mouthed at the positively ancient rust bucket that veered around her to exit the parking lot. She glanced behind her to check once again that she was, in fact, at IPS. 

She grimaced as she took in the huge, bold, tacky letters assuring her that, yes, this was the Institute for Paranormal Science, before turning back into her seat and taking her car out of park. She'd been having to drive manually ever since she arrived, and as easy going as she usually was, it was beginning to frustrate her. The automatic functions seemed to have been shut off some time during the flight here, and she had yet to reach technical services to have them turned back on. "It's like I'm being punished," she grumbled, turning into some kind of thin road that seemed to circle the perimeter of the 'school'. "And I'll never understand why these people insist upon driving on the wrong side of the road." she added, as another car honked and veered around her. 

Valerie didn't find the back side of the building any more impressive than the front. It seemed as drab and dreary from every angle. Any hope that the squat brown buildings were concealing anything extraordinary shriveled as she circled the parking lot. But in this back corner, at least, there were some nicer cars. Some even appeared to have been built this century. As she pulled into the row she noticed groups of attractive people loitering nearby. Finally, something she recognized. 

She wrinkled her nose. If this was the best this school had to offer, she'd been right to pass on attending. What a pathetic display.

Ah, well. If she had to mingle with the dregs and the nouveau riche to find her Drew, so be it. At least they would get a good taste of what real class looked like.

A boy nearby sneered as she stepped out of her car. "What's wrong with your hair?" he asked obnoxiously.

Valerie raised her eyebrow, and swept her hair off of her shoulder. She'd gotten a cut less than a week ago, by only the top Parisian hairdresser. Her hair curled gently in uneven lengths, streaked in a rich chestnut, deep auburn and a golden blonde. It was the latest fashion, so she wasn't the least surprised that this inbred twit didn't recognize it. "It's called style," she said simply, waving him off. "Maybe you should learn some, you uncultured hick."

The guy (she assumed it was a guy, though his hair was far too long,) didn't seem to react well to her comment, but he didn't get a chance to retort. The crowd surrounding them parted to make room for a girl, flanked by two more girls, that she could think of no better term for than 'lackies'. The middle girl had her chin lifted haughtily, and judging by her attire, she was what Valerie supposed was the closest thing to 'sophisticated' this town could muster up. She was bedecked in the products of so many of the most commercial designers known to fashion that it nearly blinded her to look, but they were designer, nonetheless. This girl was obviously the highest on the social ladder here. 

"I recognize your hair," the girl said, regarding her smugly. "It's on the runways in Paris right now, right?&quoquot She flipped her own frizzy, holo-highlighted and glaringly blond hair over one shoulder. "Aren't you worried that you might be, well…pandering?" she asked a little to sweetly. "Like maybe you're trying too hard?"

"I'll leave that to you," Valerie said coldly. "And I'm certainly not going to waste my energy impressing you…all." She looked as though she meant to add something offensive to her sentence, but thought better of it. "I'm here looking for my boyfriend."

The girl seemed to have caught on to Valerie's silent insult, but rather than being offended, she seemed almost impressed. She glanced around her, shrugging. "Is he waiting for you here?" she asked.

Valerie sniffed. "I'm planning to surprise him." She said simply. "He told his parents he was here, and if he is, you'll certainly know it." She smirked. "His name is Drew Vant?"

The right-hand lackey, the one with straight black hair and a painfully blank look, frowned in confusion. "No, Drew can't be your boyfriend. He's Isobel's boyfriend." She gestured toward the leader. "Except he doesn't know it so he's dating Katie."

"Shut up, Myst," Isobel snapped. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked rather miffed when she turned back to Valerie. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, dear," though she didn't sound even slightly sorry, "But your boyfriend has been slumming it with some nerd from the _general_ class."

"Well, that's annoying," Valerie said with a slight frown. She noticed Isobel's jaw twitch at her lack of reaction. "I can't say I'm all that surprised, of course, but it's not like it'll last." She shrugged. "So is he here?"

She glanced around while Isobel shook her head. "No, he never hangs out after school. He's at work probably."

Valerie's attention snapped back to Isobel, and she released a slightly unladylike snort. "Now _that_ I know you're wrong about," she said, her voice strained, as though she were fighting laughter. "Drew may get confused about who he should be spending his time with, but he would _never_ stoop so low as to take a _job_ anywhere in this podunk town."

"Hey!" the third girl chimed in, glaring at her. "This town isn't p _odunk_ , and anyway, like it or not your _boyfriend_ is spending most of his time in that garage."

Valerie raised an eyebrow at the girl. "Is that supposed to shock me? My poor Drew likes to play with car things, he's kind of a…what is it called? An oil monkey?" She looked away, pursing her lips. "I thought I had broken him of it, but being away from me and getting thrust into such a rural area, probably he couldn't find anything better to occupy his time."

The girl took a step forward, her face darkening. " _Rural_ -?"

Isobel waved her off. "Enough, Anne," she said dismissively. The girl stepped back, seething. Isobel turned back to Valerie. "Maybe he doesn't _work_ there, but that nerd does, and he's always there with her," she said coldly.

"Fine," Valerie said, shrugging and looking extremely bored with the conversation. She fetched her cell from her coat pocket. "What's the address, then?"

Isobel stepped forward and brushed past her, walking toward her car. "I'll show you," she said.

Rudy jumped as Katie came bursting into his office. The coffee he was about to drink sloshed dangerously close to the rim of his cup.

"Rudy, are you busy?" Katie asked, not giving him time to recover.

Rudy set down his mug, frowning. "Well, I was gonna take a bathroom break, but I don't seem to need to anymore," he grumbled sarcastically.

"Ok, great," Katie said, lunging forward to grab his arm. But he pulled it out of reach before she managed it.

"Is there a reason you're accosting me in my office right now?"

Katie didn't falter for a second, looking as giddy as a kid on Christmas. "Well, you told me not to bring my inventions downstairs and just to bring to you upstairs instead and I think I've got it working finally, and I just need a normal person to test it on," she said all in one breath.

Rudy's head snapped up, turning his attention from getting his cup to safety and instead staring at Katie. "A person to test _what_ on?" he asked, his voice flat. "You should know I have a thing about needles."

Katie rolled her eyes. "Not like that, you goober," she said, grabbing his arm (successfully, this time) and tugging impatiently. "I need a normal person to use it, so I know it works for normal people!"

"Oh, is that all?" Rudy mumbled, consenting to be dragged out of his chair and behind Katie, through his office door, toward the back of the garage. "No one's ever called me 'normal'," he drawled the world like it was distasteful. "I feel like I should be offended, but I've _met_ your friends…"

His humor was lost on Katie, though. She was too preoccupied trying to rush him up the stairs. "Hold your horses," Rudy muttered, maintaining his slow pace despite her continual yanking on his arm.

"What does that even mean? I've never even owned a horse!" Katie said irritably.

"It might be a saying," Drew appeared at the head of the stairs, Joanne's hand on his shoulder. She had refused to take off her glasses, so Drew was leading her out of the lab. "Like, from the old west or something?"

Rudy chose not to dignify that with a response. "What's this all about?" he grumbled, as he and Katie neared the top of the stairs. "What're you two doing out here?"

"I don't want them contaminating the experiment," Katie said, still excited. She stepped to the side, pressing up against the outside wall to try and let Rudy pass her on the stairs. "I need to make sure that someone with absolutely _no_ psychic training can get this to work just as well as I can."

"And apparently, I don't count," Drew said, dryly.

Katie stuck out her tongue. "You've been going to psychic classes for over a month now, Drew."

"That doesn't mean I've _learned_ anything!"

"Alright, that's enough," Rudy said gruffly, weaving through the group to reach the door to the lab. "What exactly am I supposed to be doing?"

"Ok, so, right in the middle of the room, there's this lamp-" Katie started.

"Well, she says 'lamp'…" Drew cut in, amused.

Katie rolled her eyes. "Ok, so it doesn't _look_ much like a lamp, it's like a box with a lightbulb on top-"

"And wires _everywhere_ ," Drew added. 

"Would you stop interrupting?" Katie whined, pouting at Drew, who only grinned.

"So there's a light up gizmo in the middle of the room," Rudy prompted, trying to draw Katie's attention back from glaring at her boyfriend. "Where do I come in?"

"Oh, through the door," Katie said, oblivious, pointing at the doorway. "But we'll close it once you're inside so we can't mess it up."

Drew sniggered, apparently understanding the phrase that had gone over Katie's head. Rudy just shook his head and stepped into the room, leaving the two to duke it out. He fought back the urge to whistle when he saw the room. He hadn't spared much of a thought about what Katie was doing up here, all he knew was that she'd made herself enough room to work, and had done so (somehow) without disposing of any of what had been in storage. He knew, because after two days had passed without anything new showing up in his dumpster, he'd asked her. She had claimed to have just rearranged everything so it was out of the way. He'd shrugged it off, figuring she just didn't need that much room.

Now, for the first time since he'd hired her, he fully believed she could be psychic. There was just no way anyone could have made this much room in here without supernatural assistance. 

He stepped into the center of the room, where Katie's 'lamp' was set. He was glad Drew clarified, because he'd never have recognized it as a lamp. The majority of it was a large wooden box that came up to about his knee, threaded through and wrapped up in dozens of wires. The tiny light bulb sitting upright in the middle of the top panel looked almost comical.

"Ok," he called. "Now what?"

"Oh!" Katie sounded surprised, as though she hadn't realized he'd left. "Ok," she said, her voice getting muffled and she started to shut to door. "Now just look at the light and think 'on'!"

Rudy raised an eyebrow, but did as he was asked. He turned back to the lamp, valiantly resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and thought; 'On.'

The tiny bulb immediately lit up.

"Whoa!" Rudy jumped back, startled. "What the f- gah!" He almost stumbled backward over a box, one Katie appeared to be using as a chair.

"Are you okay?" Katie called. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he replied automatically, then caught himself. "I mean, uh, it…it turned on."

"Yes!" Rudy could hear her jumping up and down on the rickety staircase as she squealed. "Ok, now think 'off'!" she said, before he could tell her to stop jumping.

He frowned as he turned back to the lamp. He was wary rather than dubious, this time, as he thought 'Off.'

The light promptly went dark.

He didn't jump this time, but he visibly shuddered. This was some creepifying voodoo junk right here…

"Did it turn off?" Katie called anxiously.

"Yes," Rudy called back, his voice more clipped than he meant it to be. "But you shouldn't jump on those stairs," he added quickly when he heard her starting up again.

It was Drew who answered him next, Katie seemed preoccupied with squealing 'It works, it works, it works!' "Rudy, can you switch it on and off a few more times, just to be sure?"

Rudy grunted, but turned back to the box. This time when the light switched on, he was able to suppress his shudder. He was over his initial shock, but it was still creepy.

He varied his rhythm as he toggled the light, hoping to expose if it was some kind of trick. Off…on-off-on! The longer he stood there, the less creepy it got. Still, he was noticeably pale when he met them back at the doorway. "Is there a reason you've built a mind-reading lamp?" he grumbled.

Katie was so excited, she was practically vibrating. "It worked?" she squeaked. "Consistently?" 

Rudy grunted an affirmative, pleased despite how spooked he was. It was hard not to be, when Katie looked as jazzed as a cartoon character on crack. He was proud of her, even if she _was_ a voodoo witch doctor.

Drew rolled his eyes. "I knew it worked fifteen minutes ago," he said drily. "Katie's just paranoid." He flinched as Joanne smacked his shoulder

Katie just made a face at him. "Real scientists _check_ ," she said.

"I'm glad I'm your friend," Joanne chimed in. "You built this thing in, like, what? A month? This doesn't bode well for the rest of us for when you finally get around to building that death ray."

"Death ray?" Rudy grunted.

"Oh, don't worry!" Katie grinned. "It's still only in planning stages."

Rudy crossed his arms. "You're planning to build a death ray?" he grumbled, amused.

"You're the one who gave her a _lab_ ," Joanne mumbled petulantly.

Katie's eyes widened innocently. "I'll let you test the prototype on bad customers?" she offered.

"Oh, well, in _that_ case…" Even Joanne giggled at his sarcasm. "Well, if that's all you needed, my coffee is getting cold," he said, weaving past them down the stairs.

Katie caught him in a hug as he passed her. "Thank you!" she said.

He patted her back awkwardly, flushing slightly. "No problem."

"So, we're going to lunch now, right?" Drew asked, craning to look at Katie over Rudy's shoulder.

Katie let Rudy go, her eyes widening slightly. She glanced back toward the door. "Oh, but…" She stopped when she saw Drew's chiding expression. "Uh…I mean, _yes..._ is what I meant."

Joanne snorted. "You've almost got her trained." 

"Positive reinforcement," Drew said simply, winking at Katie, who blushed fiercely.

"Ugh." Rudy grimaced. "Wait until I'm out of earshot for that, would you?" He turned to head back down the stairs. "And don't forget to lock that, if you're leaving," he called over his shoulder, unnecessarily. He could almost hear Katie rolling her eyes.

"Ugh," Valerie groaned. "Is there anything in this town that was built _after_ humans learned to make fire?" She sneered at the weathered shop as she got out of her car.

Isobel slammed her door, making Valerie jump and grimace. "It gets better if you head in the other direction," she said, eyeing the grey building with the same distaste as Valerie, completely oblivious to her glare. "It's about five miles that way before you start to reach civilization."

"Do you think five miles down the road they'll know better than to slam the door on a brand new car?" Valerie asked, her voice withering.

Isobel shrugged. The other girl's blatant disdain didn't seem to bother her."Maybe," she said dismissively. "Anyway, Drew seems to work mostly in the back." She led Isobel towards the side of the building, circling the outside to reach the back side.

Valerie was less than pleased with this arrangement. The only visible 'path' seemed to be a trail of grass that was shorter than the rest. Her shoes weren't meant for such rough treatment. Then again, she thought as they passed the open garage door, the paved ground inside of the building looked like it may be filthier than the actual dirt. "I'll just treat myself to some new boots," she grumbled to herself. She picked her way carefully through the grass to catch up to Isobel.

When she'd reached her, Isobel was staring at a beat up old car (though Valerie used the term 'car' loosely) in confusion. "Where'd everything go?" she asked no one in particular, sounding peeved.

"Everything what?" Valerie asked distractedly, her attention more focused on the heel of her right shoe. "Where's Drew?" she added after a moment.

"Uh…" Valerie glanced up sharply as Isobel hesitated. "I think he's usually right over there…" She pointed at the car-like hump of scrap sitting nearby.

"You _think_?" Valerie growled. "Don't you dare try and tell me you just had me ruin my brand new shoes over a _hunch_ ," she bit out viciously.

Isobel frowned at her, narrowing her eyes. "Of course not, he is usually _here_. I'm pretty sure that's his car." She gestured again toward the scrap heap.

Valerie raised an eyebrow, her nose scrunching in disbelief. "There is absolutely no _way_ that is Drew's car. That thing couldn't transport anyone anywhere. Two miracles and a bulldozer would barely move it ten feet."

Isobel released an exasperated sigh. "Not the one he _uses_ , the one he's working on all the time," she said impatiently. "Except there was a bunch of other stuff here…"

"Well, then _where is he_?" Valerie whined, just as impatient. 

"He's probably with that stupid _nerd_!" Isobel whined right back. "He was helping her with some stupid experiment-" Suddenly she straightened, snapping her fingers. "Oh, they're probably up _there_." She pointed to a set of rickety stairs hugging the side of the back wall to the garage. 

"Ugh. Not even," Valerie scoffed. "Those stairs couldn't hold the weight of anything heavier than a squirrel. They're clearly older than god and a rusty, terrifying death trap." She turned back to Isobel, her lip starting to curl. "Look, I don't know if I offended you or what, but whatever, okay? Jokes over, my shoes are ruined, you've had your fun, now where is my boyfriend?"

Isobel groaned. "He's up there!" She flung her hand toward the door at the head of the stairs. "But if you want to be prissy, fine. I'll go get him myself." She started stomping back toward the building. 

Valerie followed her reluctantly. She was still set on not setting foot on the rickety safety violation clinging to the dilapidated wall of this pathetic looking garage, but she was ready to scream when Isobel inevitably fell through a step halfway up the stairs.

Luckily, she hadn't gotten even three steps up before they were interrupted by a harrumphing, greasy looking walrus standing in the open doorway to the building. "Can I help you two with anything?" the 'man' grunted at them. His name-patch read 'Chuck'. He was frowning at Isobel, who looked a little irritated at being interrupted.

"I'm looking for Drew Vant," Valerie said, pulling his attention back to her. "I was told he'd be here." Hopefully the full extent of her annoyance was evident in her tone.

"Oh, you just missed him," Chuck said cheerfully, completely oblivious. "He and Katie just went to have lunch."

"Isn't it a little late for lunch?" Isobel asked, finally stepping down from the stairs.

Chuck shrugged. "It's a little early for dinner," he offered in way of an explanation.

Valerie shook her head, sighing. "Whatever," she growled. "Do you happen to know where they went to eat?"

Chuck squinted and tilted his head. "Uuuh..." Valerie felt like screaming.

"I think it was that new steak place!" a voice called from inside.

Chuck's eyes widened. "Right! That one with the really good lunch special for Thanksgiving, right?"

"Who's asking?" a third person grunted, appearing next to the walrus. This one had short ginger hair under a tacky baseball hat. He frowned when he caught sight of Isobel.

"I'm his girlfriend," Valerie said haughtily. She lifted her chin when he lifted an eyebrow at her.

"For his sake, I hope you're mistaken, little lady." His voice was too rumbley for her to discern a tone, but he seemed almost bored. "I know his girlfriend, and you look absolutely nothing like her."

Valerie lifted a shoulder. "He gets confused." She managed to sound casual and assured, despite his sudden bark of laughter. "Listen, do you troglodytes have an address for this steak place, or not?"

"I hope Joanne will be okay." Katie's eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

Drew shrugged, holding the door to the restaurant open for her. "She'll be fine once Adrian gets back, which will be in just a few days."

Katie sighed and stepped through the door. The building was packed - the restaurant was doing some kind of All-You-Can-Eat turkey thing for Thanksgiving - but it was late for lunch and the crowd was thinning out. "I wish we had at least invited her, though," she said, concerned.

"I don't," Drew snorted. He noticed Katie's reproachful glare and hunched his shoulders. "What? She was being depressing!"

He was expecting a snarky retort, but Katie wasn't glaring at him anymore. Her eyes were wide and her face was pale as she stared at something behind him. He spun to see what was freaking her out, but all he saw were more people. A few loud families, a couple of working-class men, and one enormous group that had wedged at least five tables together. No one he recognized. "Katie, what is it?" he asked, turning back to her.

She'd hid her face in her hands, so her voice was muffled when she answered. "Mildred," she choked out.

Drew's eyebrows shot up. "The stepmother?" He turned back to the crowd to see if her could pick her out. Katie had finally told him about the serial-dieting killer whale she lived with. It was no good, of course, he couldn't even see everyone's face. "Do you want to go somewhere else?" he asked quietly as he turned back to her.

Katie shook her head, which he may well have predicted. "It's fine," she said, swallowing thickly. "I don't think she saw me. Besides, she has no reason to bug us…right?" 

"Katie, I honestly don't mind going somewhere else," he said, squeezing her hand.

Katie shook her head again, her face set. "No, it's really fine. You wanted to come here, and it's nice, and they've got that great special right now."

Drew scoffed as they approached the hostess. "We're not here for _turkey_ , Katie, we're here for _cake_."

"I thought we were here for lunch?" Katie giggled.

"That too," Drew agreed. "And anything else you want. But I've heard good things about their cake, and I figured you've earned one, right? We need to celebrate your first big invention!"

Katie laughed. "Today a mind reading lamp, tomorrow the _world!_ "

Drew didn't push leaving, but he did request a table on the opposite end of the restaurant from where Katie had been staring. She seemed more at ease the farther they got from Mildred.

"So, what was all this talk about cake?" Katie asked as she settled into her chair.

Drew laughed, but it was the Hostess who answered. "Oh, are you talking about the Chocolate Confusion cake?" she chirped, grinning excitedly. "Ohmigod, that is the best thing ever, it is _so_ good!" she gushed.

"That's what I'd heard," Drew said, still laughing.

"Is that what's brought you in? Our _fabulous_ cake?" she asked cheerfully.

"Apparently," Katie said. "And lunch, too."

"Well, you're going to _love_ it," she assured them. "Just make sure to save room, because the slices are huge. Oh, and maybe mention to your waiter that you'll want one for dessert. They're first come, first serve, and we always run out before the end of the day." She handed them their menus as she talked.

"What exactly is up with this cake?" Katie asked Drew once the hostess had left. She was hovering between freaked out and amused.

Drew shrugged. "All I know is that everyone at the garage loved it."

Katie sighed wistfully. "You know, I actually love cake? I haven't had any in forever though. Mildred won't allow them in her house."

"Well, tell you what," Drew said, grinning mischievously. "How about we have the cake _first_?"

With how crowded the restaurant was, as well as how far away from her they were, Drew had been certain they wouldn't have to worry about Katie's stepmother bothering them.

Of course, he hadn't accounted for the lady's room.

Not that they were right beside it, or anything. It was still halfway across the restaurant. Honestly, he couldn't even see it from where he was sitting. But apparently to path to it made Katie and himself some kind of visible. 

He still had trouble understanding how she could have spotted them in the sea of people. Particularly with Katie's back turned to her. Unless that 'bloodhound' comment Katie had made a while back was serious.

But with her tiny nose, watery eyes, droopy cheeks, and slight under bite, he wouldn't use 'blood hound' to describe her. She looked so much like a bulldog, it was honestly unsettling.

"Katie?" she called when she was a few feet away from their table.

Katie stiffened, and Drew winced. They hadn't even gotten their cake yet.

"I _thought_ that was you!" she squealed as she squeezed herself by their table, nearly knocking someone at the neighboring table into their food. "How funny that we would pick the same place to visit for lunch!" She chuckled knowingly. "Maybe not so surprising though, with how great their lunch deal is this week."

"We're…not getting the turkey," Drew said hesitantly. She'd yet to acknowledge him, but he was starting to get annoyed at everyone suggesting he would take his girlfriend for all-you-can-eat _anything_. 

Mildred turned her eyes to him, a smile pasted on her droopy face. "I don't believe we've met," she said sweetly.

"This is my boyfriend, Drew," Katie said, her face flushing. "I'm sure I've mentioned him." She absolutely had not.

"Boyfriend?" Mildred's voice was flat. She turned her eyes back to Drew, her pasted smile gone, replaced by a severely pinched expression. "I don't think I've seen you at our church?"

Drew raised his eyebrows, but kept his mouth shut. Even without knowing how Katie felt about her, he would dislike this woman. He didn't trust himself to answer her.

"I met him at school," Katie said reluctantly. She kept her eyes down, already wincing.

Mildred's face got even more pinched, but they were saved by the waiter arriving with their cake. He glanced at Mildred in confusion, and shifted to lean around Katie. "The rest of your lunch should be out before too long. And may I just say how thoroughly I approve of your appetizer choice?" He was grinning as he set the two plates on their table. 

"Is that _cake_?" Mildred choked, staring at their plates in horror. The cake was three layers of varying shades of chocolate, iced in a thick, creamy chocolate frosting that was then covered in white chocolate curls. If Drew could only pick one word to describe it, he'd probably have to go with something like 'Sexy'. But Mildred was staring at it as though they'd been handed plates of raw sewage. "That has got to be the most fattening thing I've ever seen," she muttered in disgust.

"Good," Drew responded promptly. Mildred turned her eyes back to him, her jaw dropping in shock. "Katie _needs_ to gain some weight. She looks like she was just sprung from a POW camp." A girl at a nearby table cheered, and Katie laughed. 

"I _have_ gained weight, though," Katie said defensively, glancing down at herself.

Drew chuckled. "I know, you look fine. I was just exaggerating."

"So is _this_ why you haven't been having dinner with your _family_?" Mildred piped up, priggishly. Her face was flushed in a blotchy sort of way. Apparently Drew had offended her. "Because you'd rather let this lackadaisical deadbeat shove sugar-flavored lard in your face every night?"

"Oh, god yes," Katie mumbled. Drew snorted. Katie hadn't even heard her, but had just taken a bite of her cake. 

Mildred's blotchy flush got even deeper. "Excuse me?" she squeaked.

" _Oh_ , this is _so good_!" Drew had no idea how she managed to shove a piece of cake as big as his fist into her mouth, but she did. Her mouth looked so _small_ , usually.

"Could you at least _attempt_ to not make such offensive noises when I'm standing right here?" Mildred looked positively scandalized. Her indignation was even funnier because Drew was pretty sure Katie wasn't trying to mock her. She just _really_ liked the cake.

"Listen, it was really nice to meet you, Miss Johnson," Drew used Katie's last name because he didn't know (or care) what hers was. He heard her make an indignant noise, but continued. "But we're about to have lunch, and there's not a lot of room here anyway, so…" he trailed off, glancing over at the neighboring table that had the misfortune of Mildred's sizable backside invading their personal space for the past five minutes.

"I actually have something I need to discuss with my _step_ -daughter," Mildred said drily. "And it's Mrs. Campbell."

Drew smiled politely, and turned to his cake without another word. Katie seemed to be completely oblivious to their exchange, still focused entirely on her dessert. Mildred cleared her throat twice in an attempt to get her attention, with no luck. Finally, she tapped Katie's shoulder.

Katie jumped and looked up, pouting. "Hm?" she hummed, her mouth too full to speak. 

There's something I need to talk to you about," Mildred said sweetly. "If you wouldn't mind pulling your attention from the three layers of insulin shock-inducing lard for a few minutes?"

Katie's eyes flicked skyward, and she took a deep, bracing breath before setting her fork down on her plate.

Mildred sighed. "Thank you. I just wanted to let you know that my church will be putting on a play tonight," she said, willfully ignoring how Katie was slowly, contentedly chewing on the cake she still had stored in her mouth. "It's a thanksgiving themed play, and I think that if you insist on having dinner with your friend, the least you could do is join your family for the play."

"I think we already have plans for tonight, though," Drew interjected. Mildred maintained her smile, but he could see her lip twitch in irritation. He glanced over at Katie, who was smiling at him as though she wanted to kiss him. So it was kind of a win/win. "What time is this play exactly?"

Mildred, surprisingly, had the sense not to answer. "What exactly is it you have planned?" she asked instead, refusing to leave him an opening to help Katie back out.

"It probably starts at seven," Katie supplied helpfully, finally gulping down her cake. "These things usually do."

Drew winced dramatically. "That would be tight," he said regretfully.

"It's actually at six-thirty," Mildred ground out.

"Oh, that's even worse!" Drew said, sounding horrified.

Mildred's chest swelled, and her nose flared as she glared at Drew. He wasn't all that intimidated, of course, the worst the woman could do was _sit_ on him, but Katie looked concerned. The Step-whale leaned closer to him, opening her mouth to unleash whatever hell she kept stored in there, but Katie jumped in. 

"Don't worry about it, Mildred, I'll try to make it," she said, picking her fork back up and looking away.

Mildred straightened. She didn't seem all that mollified, but at least she was backing off. "You'll do better than try," she said flatly.

But of course, Katie had already turned her attention back to her cake. She had a bite to her mouth already, and started to hum happily, making Mildred scoff in disgust.

"Could you _please_ refrain from making those _obscene_ noises in my presence?" she hissed, to Drew's surprise. Of the noises she had made since first beginning her cake, that seemed to him like the _least_ obscene. 

Katie narrowed her eyes. "But it's _so good!_ " she moaned insistently. Unlike before, he was sure this time she was trying to provoke Mildred. It was hard not to laugh when it worked.

"I'll text you with the address," she said shortly, as she unwedged herself from the narrow opening between the tables.

Drew chuckled under his breath as he watched the woman retreat clumsily back toward the other side of the restaurant. "I can't believe you did that," he whispered. Katie giggled.

He glanced once more toward Mildred's retreating back to be sure she was out of earshot, and froze in alarm.

“No,” he mumbled. “No, no, no, not possible.”

“Drew?” Katie's eyebrows furrowed in concern. “You okay? It's not the cake, is it? 'Cause mine is perfect.”

Drew covered his face with his hands, but it was too late. She saw him. She started toward them, plowing through tables like the psychotic chimp she was. “Go away, go away, go away,” he groaned under his breath.

“What? Is Mildred coming back?” Katie turned in her seat. But the woman barreling in their direction was as unlike Mildred as someone could possibly be. For one thing, she was about one-eighth the size. She could have easily weaved through the chairs blocking her way, but she knocked into them thoughtlessly as she made her way toward them. Her hair was choppy and curly and multicolored, like she couldn't decide on a style. Her clothes seemed to mirror her indecision; while they all seemed very nicely made, and while everything was various shades of pink, the designs varied wildly. Her top, what was visible, seemed to consist of layers of sheer material arranged in ruffles that fell to about mid-thigh, but the jacket she had over it looked eerily similar to a Disney princess version of a matador's, complete with epaulets. Her pants, oddest of all, looked like hot pink, sparkly jeggings. Her shoes - like her three necklaces, brooch, and earrings – were a bright, gaudy gold. Even her eye shadow was gold.

“Well, that's definitely not Mildred,” Katie said thoughtfully.

“God, how did she find me?” 

“Drew, good,” the flamboyant girl sighed when she reached their table. Katie had never heard a more nasal voice in her life. “It's about time. I was about to send out a search party.”

“If I'd known you were coming, a search party wouldn't have helped,” Drew grumbled. “Katie, this is my _ex_ -girlfriend, Valerie.” He waved toward the girl, putting a significant amount of emphasis on 'ex', though the girl didn't so much as flinch. 

“You must be his newest, misguided fling,” Valerie said, surveying her coldly.

A month ago that comment would have left her a blushing unsure mess. But between her meds and Drew’s encouragement, she was in a much better place. “You look like a Barbie dreamhouse threw up on you,” Katie said bluntly.

Valerie sneered. “At least my clothed are decent,” she said.

“I don't suppose there's a reason you're here, Valerie?” Drew asked, interrupting their banter. “We're eating, and there isn't room for you.”

“Oh, please,” Valerie flapped her hand. “You're almost done, anyway. Get a box for your cake and come on, we need to talk.”

“We haven't had lunch yet,” Katie informed her innocently.

Valerie stared at her. “You're eating cake,” she said flatly.

“Well, yeah,” she said cheerfully, looking back to her cake. “It's the appetizer.”

“You eat cake as an appetizer?” She wrinkled her nose.

Katie smiled at her. “That's how we do it in America,” she said, sounding quite satisfied.

“No wonder you're all so fat,” Valerie sighed.

“ _Right_??” Katie leaned back, holding her arms out to showcase her tiny frame.

“Incidentally, I'd rather eat my own eyeballs than go anywhere with you,” Drew drawled, bringing their attention back to him.

“Don't be melodramatic, Drew. You sound like a petulant child.”

“I'd eat my own eyeballs just to not have to look at you anymore,” Katie interjected blandly. “What kind of animal sacrifice went into summoning Ru Paul to do your makeup?”

Drew didn't even try to stifle his laughter, but the reference seemed to go over Valerie's head. “I don't know who this 'Ru Paul' person is-” Valerie began pompously. Drew dropped his head in his hands, laughing helplessly. “But I do my own makeup. Also, unlike _some_ people, I have money. I don't have to resort to witchcraft to hire a makeup artist.” She snorted, her tone as disparaging as ever, which only made it funnier for Katie.

“You do if he's _dead_ , moron,” she stage whispered.

Valerie ignored her. “Besides, I wouldn't want to hire him unless I was sure he was using Bonita.” She stressed 'Bonita' as though it were important.

Katie stared at her blankly. “I only understood about half of what came out of your mouth just now.”

Drew finally emerged from behind his hands. “It's a cosmetics line,” he choked out. “She thinks spending her weight in gold on makeup makes her posh.”

“They named their makeup 'Bonita'?” Katie giggled. “Why not maquillaje?”

“Don't make up words,” Valerie said priggishly. “It doesn't make you sound smart, it makes you sound silly.” She swept her hair over her shoulder, turned back to Drew. “And that doesn't even make sense,” she said. “Why would I pay my weight in gold for my makeup. My eye shadow _is_ gold, but I'd never use a hundred and ten pounds of it.”

“He means the precious metal, not the color.” Katie managed to keep the sarcasm to a minimum.

“So did I,” Valerie said, looking smug. “My eye shadow is made of actual precious-metal fourteen karat gold dust.”

Katie raised her eyebrow. “You're joking.”

“She's not,” Drew muttered.

She turned back to Valerie, her face twisted in disbelief. “What do you wipe your ass with? Hundreds?”

“You’re assuming she wipes her own ass,” Drew muttered dryly. 

“If you two are quite finished?” Valerie snapped impatiently. She crossed her arms and glared at Drew. “It's been two years, I've given you your space. I've let you sow your wild oats, or what-the-hell-ever. But this is enough now. You aren't fooling me, and you certainly aren't making me _jealous_ -”

“Well, I actually clearly am,” Drew said, frowning, just as impatient. “But here's the thing, and it might shock you, but try and stay with me: I really don't care.” 

Valerie stomped her foot. “Don't be _stupid_ , of course you _care_ ,” she shrilled. “You and I _both_ know this uncultured little gutter rat isn't good enough for you-”

Drew's gaze snapped up, his expression suddenly dangerous. "Everything you just said is the exact opposite of true." 

"Oh, please," She either didn't notice, or didn't care about the waves of homicidal rage now radiating from her ex-boyfriend. "You can't honestly sit there and pretend like this girl is special. You're using her, just like every other one of your flings, trying to pretend like you're a 'normal' person."

"Exactly how many girls have you dated?" Katie asked in an undertone.

"Not nearly as many as she's making it sound like," he muttered in reply. "Not unless you count all of her personalities.

Valerie pursed her lips as Katie started to giggle, glaring at her vindictively. "Fine, miss I'm-so-special, if he's so serious about you, has he told you about his family? About his _father_?"

Drew's face flushed deeply. "Valerie…" he muttered warningly, through clenched teeth.

"You mean Vincent Vant?" Katie asked. They both turned to look at her in shock. She rolled her eyes. "Come on, Drew. You clearly don't have a job, but you keep spending absurd amounts of money on me, you have an accent, and your last name is Vant." She shrugged. "It wasn't that hard of a stretch."

Valerie paused before looking back at Drew. "It doesn't count if she guessed."

"This isn't a contest," he sighed. "And if it were, you'd lose regardless."

"Ok, that's enough!" Valerie huffed, her voice taking on a whimpery lilt as she threw her hands out in frustration. "Drew, I'm staying at the only _decent_ hotel in this slum, same as your parents. When you _come to your senses_ , my room number is four-sixty-three." And with that, she spun on her heel and stomped off.

"Wow," Katie murmured. "Can't imagine how you could ever give _that_ up."

"Argh!!" Valerie shrieked in irritation. She paced back and forth in front of Isobel, who was lounging against the side of her car, examining her nails with a bored expression.

"I get it," she said sympathetically, not looking up from her nails. "I have to deal with her _every day_."

"These pieces are by the three top designers in Europe!" Valerie raged, not listening. "And she compares me to a _Barbie doll_?? _Barbie couldn't afford to wear my nail polish!_ "

"I know what you mean. She ended up coming with me to shop one time, she had absolutely _no_ appreciation-"

"I am going to _destroy_ her," Valerie growled, turning to Isobel, her lip curled in contempt. "I'll tear her down until she has no reputation left. She won't be allowed _anywhere-_ " She turned as though to march back into the restaurant, but this time Isobel cut her off.

"That won't work," she said, bored.

Valerie turned back to her, finally paying attention. "What do you mean it _won't work_? You don't know me, you have no idea what I'm capable of."

Isobel shrugged. "I'm sure you could ruin her reputation, I mean, it wouldn't be hard. I could even do it, if I wanted to." With a hint of defensiveness. "I just know that she won't care."

"Of course she'd care," she answered, scornfully, crossing her arms. "Everyone cares what people think of them,"

Isobel just shook her head. "She really doesn't," she muttered "Like, all she cares about is her stupid books and her stupid experiments."

"Fine," she said dismissively. "Then I'll destroy _those_."

"Right," Isobel chortled. "How?"

She made an impatient noise. "You know where she keeps those things, you said so earlier," Valerie said, gesturing toward her. "Just take me there."

"Right okay, whatever, so what if I do?" Isobel demanded. "What are you gonna do, take a baseball bat to everything? They'll so completely know it was you!"

Valerie scoffed. "You clearly don't understand _subtlety_ ," she bit out. "Take one important screw out, and things fall apart all on their own."

Valerie's superior tone seemed to be wearing on Isobel. She made a face and looked away. "Whatever," she grumbled. "Because how are _you_ supposed to know what's most important to her experiments?"

That gave Valerie pause, but she recovered quickly. "Well, don't you know something?" she asked. "You said she used you for her experiments, don't tell me you didn't notice anything about what they were doing?" she finished with a small, derisive laugh.

Isobel flushed. "Look, okay, all I know is it had something to do with telekinesis. okay?" she said, shrugging. "I mean, if it's all about psychic stuff, something silver might be all you needed," she added, as though determined to contribute something.

Valerie raised an eyebrow. "Silver?"

"Yeah, no one at schools allowed to wear it 'cause it completely messes up psychic powers or something." Isobel shrugged.

"So you're telling me that you own nothing silver?" She smirked, pompous. 

"Well, some earrings...but she'd just notice them and move them!" she added quickly.

"You're right, that's a stupid idea," Valerie said, unimpressed. Isobel didn't know whether to be relieved or offended. "I have a better one," she finished, a vindictive grin spreading across her face.

“So exactly how long have you known about my dad?” 

Katie looked up at Drew, sheepish, but he didn't seem annoyed. He was grinning, but seemed a little worried at the same time. “Well, I, uh...I had my suspicions to begin with,” she said, hunching her shoulders. “I mean, how else did you end up at IPS? It's not cheap, and you don't care about your grades, like, at all.” She paused when they reached the register. Thankfully, the rest of their lunch had been relatively uneventful, even so, she was glad it was over.

“Yeah. But that just tells you I have money,” he said reasonably. “Not that I'm related to god.” He handed the girl at the counter the bill for their meal and his card. 

“It was the dress,” Katie admitted miserably. “I saw the price tag, and you didn't even flinch.”

“Yeah, I think my perception of prices is kind of skewed...” he admitted.

“So I did some cursory research when I got home, but...” She shrugged. “I felt a little weird about it. Vincent Vant was just an educated guess, but I guess I was right.”

She expected something sarcastic, but he didn't respond immediately. When she looked over, he was putting his card back into his wallet. “It doesn't bother you?” he asked after a moment.

Katie shook her head without a second's hesitation. “I'm a little worried you might think, or your family might think I'm only interested in your money,” she said. “But you being rich or important doesn't bother me.” She grinned. “Besides, it's not really _you_ who's rich and important.”

Drew laughed, the worry on his face shattering. “Good point.”

They were halfway to the door when Katie's cell started to bark loudly. Drew raised his eyebrows as she pulled it out to check it, though she knew the message was from Mildred. That was her assigned ringtone.

“Oh, it's the address,” she muttered, looking it over.

Drew stifled a laugh. “You made your stepmother's ring tone dog barking?” he asked under his breath.

Katie flashed him a bright smile, and glanced over to the side of the restaurant Mildred had been sitting in earlier. She was still there, and was staring at her, her mouth gaping. Apparently she had heard the song of her people. Katie lifted her phone over her head and waved at her. “I'll try my best to make it!” she called, hoping to quell any lingering doubts that the ring tone was hers.

Her cell started singing again as she went to tuck it back into her pocket, this time with Joanne's ringtone, which was a slight relief. She was a little worried it might be Mildred again, with a few choice words about novelty ringtones. 

“Adrian's back,” she blurted in surprise, looking from the message to Drew. “Apparently he ditched his family and came back early, and Joanne wants to show him the lamp.”

“Well, tell her we'll meet her at the garage,” Drew said.

“You don't mind?” She looked almost apologetic. The truth was, she wanted to go back to the garage. But mostly to work, and he knew it.

Drew smiled. “Of course not. Come on.”

"It's locked…" Isobel muttered, frowning.

"What?!" Valerie whispered fiercely. Her nose was wrinkled in disgust as she tried valiantly to avoid letting any part of her (save the unavoidable soles of her feet) from touching the stairs they were standing on. "Don't you _dare_ tell me you dragged me up this awful building for nothing!" she continued, still whispering. They had to be quiet, one of the mechanics still seemed to be here. Of course, how he hadn't noticed them pulling in was beyond her.

Isobel glanced at her sidelong. "Please. Give me some credit," she whispered back. She closed her eyes and placed her hand against the door, right beneath the doorknob. A moment later, Valerie heard a quiet 'click'.

"How did you do that?" she asked, watching as Isobel turned the handle easily and pushed the door open.

She smirked at her. "I go to a school for psychics," she said, in a perfect imitation of Valerie's smug tone. "Guess."

Valerie scoffed. "Whatever," she muttered, brushing past her to enter the room. She almost gagged at the smell, something like old boxes and burnt rubber. "Ugh, it smells worse than it looks," she choked. She used one hand to cover her face, and moved the other to grope the wall for a light switch.

"Yeah, so it stinks," Isobel whispered, annoyed. "Don't be such a baby about it."

Valerie found the light and switched it on, so Isobel would be sure to see the face she made at her. She glanced around and groaned. "Ugh, it's just _boxes_!" she almost cried, momentarily forgetting to whisper.

"Not just," Isobel said, pointing to the right. Covering a couple of piles of boxes were multiple old-style laptops , tangled balls of wire, and tons of scrap metal. "And that looks kind of important," she added drily, gesturing toward an odd contraption nearby, which was sprouting dozens of cords and topped with a tiny lightbulb. It was like the weirdest octopus she'd ever seen.

"It looks stupid, is what it looks like," Valerie retorted, stepping closer.

"So what's your plan, princess prissy-pants?" Isobel asked, crossing her arms.

Valerie glanced over, smug. From her pocket she pulled out a small pot of silvery powder, which she'd retrieved from her makeup bag earlier. "You said silver would mess her stuff up?" she reminded her.

"Yeah, but real silver," Isobel frowned in confusion. "Not silver-colored-"

Valerie balled her fists and threw her arms down, resisting the urge to stomp her foot lest the mechanic hear. "Oh, for the last time, I know the difference!" she whispered, irritated. "This is actual sterling silver powder, okay?"

"It looks like a container of eye shadow," Isobel said, shrugging, unimpressed.

"It _is_ eye shadow."

"You put sterling silver on your eyelids?" Isobel raised an eyebrow. "What if it gets in your eye? Wouldn't it, like, cut it or something?"

"Don't be stupid," Valerie sighed. "It wouldn't hurt any worse than any other eye shadow. Now show me where's the best place to put this." She pulled a small makeup brush from her pocket and started to unscrew the cap on the silver.

Isobel lifted her shoulders, incredulous. "How should I know?"

Valerie groaned. "What purpose do you even serve?" she sneered.

"Oh, you mean, other than showing you how to get back here?" she asked, sarcastic, as Valerie started brushing everything in sight. "Or unlocking the door? Or pointing out the techie junk?"

"Alright fine," Valerie said, grudgingly. "So you're useful. Why don't you watch the door while I do this?"

Isobel rolled her eyes, and turned back toward the door. "And people call _me_ a prig…" she muttered. If Valerie heard her, she didn't say anything.

They must have been there for at least ten minutes - Valerie seemed intent on covering every conceivable surface with a fine layer of silver dust - when Isobel heard a car door slam.

"Valerie, I just heard a car door!" she whispered urgently.

She looked up from her dusting, her eyes wide despite her usually cool demeanor. "Are you sure it's not that guy leaving?"

Isobel had her ear to the crack in the door, and she shook her head. "No, I hear voices." She jumped up and backed away from the door. "We need to get out of here," she whispered. She looked seriously freaked.

"Well, that's the only door," Valerie said, irritably, screwing the lid back onto her now empty eye shadow and stuffing it into her pocket.

"Maybe we can hide?" Isobel spun in place, looking around wildly. There were plenty of boxes, she could probably squeeze herself somewhere, if she needed to.

"You hide, if you want." Valerie didn't seem in the least bit upset, only defiant and a little disagreeable. "They can't _do_ anything," she said, lifting her chin as she walked briskly toward the door.

"You're completely insane!" Isobel squeaked, and she started to wiggle behind a stack of boxes on the far wall. 

Valerie shrugged, and switched off the light before stepping back outside.

For a second Katie thought Joanne had beaten them to the garage, but Joanne would never dress like the girl halfway down the steps to her lab. She wasn't sure her friend even _owned_ that much pink.

"Hello again, Val," Katie said, trying to sound cheerful, despite her confusion.

Valerie sneered at her. "Don't call me that," she growled, stepping further down the stairs. Her hand was hovering three or four inches above the handrail, as though she were afraid to touch it.

"Valerie, this is past ridiculous," Drew said, his eyes narrowing. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"Oh, what? You mean this isn't where the hillbillies congregate to socialize?" She raised her hands looking around. "I thought this was like this city's equivalent to the Louvre."

"Oh, once more, _Val_ , but with _feeling_!" Katie exclaimed, unimpressed with her act. "Who told you about my lab?" she asked, her tone serious again, glancing behind her at the closed door at the top of the stairs.

Valerie lifted a shoulder, looking bored. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she practically yawned.

" _Valerie_ -"

"Ugh!" She threw up her hands. "Un-wad your panties, okay? All I know is some girl at the pathetic hole in the wall you call a _school_ told me you'd be here earlier, and then when I got here the greasy people sent me to that terrible diner-place." She looked away, crossing her arms.

"That doesn't explain why you're here now, Valerie," Drew growled. Behind them, Katie could hear a car roll into the parking lot. 

Valerie rolled her eyes. "Ok, fine, I just got lost, okay?" She wrinkled her nose and looked around in disdain. "I went from the hotel to the stupid school, to this stupid place, to that stupid restaurant, and I didn't know how to get from the restaurant to the hotel. Okay? Happy?"

Drew shook his head. "Why where you upstairs?"

She threw her hands up. "God, I just wanted to get directions, okay?"

Katie turned to the sound of voices; Joanne and Adrian were headed toward them through the garage. Adrian was carrying Joanne piggyback, and she was grinning ear to ear. She waved happily when she caught sight of Katie.

"And it didn't occur to you to ask Rudy?" Drew gestured toward the garage, where Rudy was still sitting in his office.

"He was mean before!" she whined, crossing her arms again. "I wanted to see if there was anyone else here."

"Hey, guys!" Joanne chirped when they reached them. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion when she spotted Valerie. "Who's the poofball?" she asked, still just as perky.

Valerie's nostrils flared. "What did you just call me?" she shrilled.

"A poofball," Joanne repeated, quite matter-of-factly, as she hopped off of Adrian's back. "You're poofy," She explained innocently.

"Yeah, actually, why don't any of your clothes match?" Adrian asked, tilting his head. "Are you fresh off a bender or something?"

Valerie looked like she might slap him, but Joanne was already pulling him up the stairs. "Hey, wait, guys, I have to unlock it," Katie said, following behind them. She looked over her shoulder at Drew. "Are you coming?" she asked hesitantly, glancing between him and Valerie.

"Yes," Drew said, with a pointed glance at Valerie. She scoffed as he skirted around her to reach the foot of the stairs. "Go _home_ , Valerie," he muttered.

By the time he'd reached the others at the top of the stairs, Valerie had stomped off toward the parking lot. "I don't trust her," he muttered, frowning.

"You and me both," Katie agreed as she fiddled with the lock on the door. She frowned as she turned the key. "Odd…" she said, as the door swung open. Joanne bounced in ahead of her, still dragging Adrian.

"What's wrong?" Drew asked, looking from the door back to her in concern.

Katie shook her head. "The key just turned, kind of…easily." She looked toward the foot of the stairs, where Valerie had been standing. "But I'm sure I locked it."

Drew's eyes flashed with worry. He squeezed ahead of Katie, through the door. "Joanne?" he called. Katie followed him inside, but he kept his hand out protectively.

"Now all you have to do is think 'On'," Joanne explained excitedly.

"Wait!" Katie called.

There was a bright flash, and then everything went dark.


	8. 108 - All kinds of DUCK...plus and ostrich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ITS THE HANGOVER EPISODE!!!

** 108 – All kinds of DUCK…plus an ostrich **

Drew was no stranger to hangovers.

There isn't really a 'legal drinking age' in Greece, after all…at least not applied to private property. His first encounter with grappa was at the age of ten, his first hangover when he was twelve, and after his second (at thirteen) he learned a few things that must happen if you get carried away with the alcohol.

First: _Water_. As much as you can keep down until you actually pass out.

And second: _Close the god-forsaken curtains_.

He groaned in agony as sunlight cut a stripe across his face, streaming through his stupidly 100% open curtains.

"Ugh…" The pain made him queasy. This couldn't possibly be real. How could _anything_ be this painful? 

What the hell _happened_?

"Turn off the stupid light, you _sadistic_ -" a feminine voice muttered painfully close to his ear, trailing off into a stream of curses.

Drew froze, any pain from doing so barely noticeable in the wake of his horror. Because that voice was definitely not Katie's. That voice was in bed with him, hardly dressed (as he was beginning to notice) and she wasn't Katie, and what the _holy hell_ happened??

Oh, god, he moaned silently to himself, please, _please_ don't be Valerie…

He slowly, reluctantly, _painfully_ cracked one eye open.

"Oh, god," he repeated, out loud this time.

"Shh…" Joanne hushed him, her hand groping blindly until it was splayed across his face.

"Joanne," he said, his voice muffled by her hand. He wasn't sure if having Katie's best friend in his bed with him was really better than his ex, but it was absolutely more confusing.

"Shh!" she hushed him more forcefully, pressing her hand down on his face.

He shoved her hand off of him. "Joanne!" he barked, doing his best to ignore the sudden ringing in his ears. 

She sat bolt upright. "Ugh, _what?_ " she whined, pouting and squinting at her surroundings. Then her eyes fell on him and they started to widen. "…what?" she squeaked. And she finally glanced down at herself and took in her complete lack of shirt, and jumped up, dragging the covers with her. " _What_??" she almost shrieked.

Drew made a mad grab for the covers, but missed. He wasn't that worried about Joanne, she still had a fully functional and secured bra on _her_ chest, but in his current panicked state he couldn't be sure-

He breathed a sigh of relief. He still had his pants on.

Small miracles.

"Drew, what's going on?" Joanne was staring at him with wide eyes. "Where's your shirt? Where's _my_ shirt?" She spun in a small circle and almost tripped herself as she got tangled in the blanket. "Where are _we_?" Her voice got higher and higher with every word.

Drew resisted rolling his eyes, it would only make his head pound worse. "Oh, so you can talk to me now?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. " Well, if I had known this was all it took," he continued, gesturing toward his naked torso.

"Shut up!" Joanne snapped, her voice barely more than a squeak. "This is serious!"

Drew was ready with an equally sarcastic "No, really?", but his voice was drowned out by a loud, insistent, deep warbling noise from his adjoining bathroom.

Joanne stared at him, her eyes wider than ever. When he shrugged, even more confused than she was, she gulped and started to shuffle toward the door.

As soon as she cracked the door open, a small head (about the size of his fist), poked out at about eye level, warbling happily at Joanne through a comically wide beak.

"Is…" She glanced back at Drew. "Is that an ostrich?"

"I think that is an _ostrich_ ," Drew whispered. "There is an _ostrich_ in my bathroom?"

The ostrich stretched its neck further through the door, reaching for her. Joanne looked like she wanted to back away, but she held still as the bird nuzzled against her cheek, making a soft cooing noise.

"Oh, he's sweet!" she cried, petting his neck gently. "Wait, _your_ bathroom?" she asked abruptly, turning back to stare at him.

By now Drew was on his feet, rifling around on the floor searching for their clothes. "Where did all these _feathers_ come from?" he was muttering. "I don't even _own_ feather pillows."

"Did they come from Beep-beep?" 

Drew straightened, wincing as his head throbbed. "Beep-beep?"

Joanne pointed at the loose collar hanging from the base of the ostrich's neck. There was a little silver tag that Drew assumed had 'Beep-beep' engraved on it, but he was too busy staring at its feet to care. Joanne had opened the door wide enough for the ostrich to pass through. And as odd as the collar looked on his ridiculously long neck, the ballet slippers were undoubtedly weirder.

"Beep-beep?" she crooned accusingly as the ostrich inched into the bedroom, dipping his head down to root through the feathers piled on the ground. "Did you get feathers everywhere? Are you molting, Beep-beep?"

"These are goose feathers," Drew said irritably. "And you've calmed down alarmingly fast considering we woke up in _bed_ together."

"But lookit your cute ostrich!" Joanne squealed. She squealed again, louder, (making Drew wince for the umpteenth time) when he lifted his head, gripping her shirt in his beak. "Beep-beep! Thank you! _Good_ ostrich!"

"He's not mine," Drew said, automatically turning his back to her so she could get dressed.

"What do you mean?" Joanne's voice was muffled by her shirt. "He was in your bathroom."

"And I have no idea how he got there," he said, leaning closer to his window. "Just like I have no idea how we got here, either." His voice dropped to a contemplative undertone as he gazed down at his driveway. "Literally. My car isn't here. There's no car here at all."

"What?" Joanne came up beside him, fully dressed and holding his missing shirt. "Oh, Beep-beep found this for you." she said, handing him the shirt and leaning around him to peer out onto the driveway. "I'm very confused."

"Oh, really? Just now?" Drew grumbled sarcastically as he yanked his shirt over his head.

Joanne narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't be an ass."

"Excuse me, I'm sorry, am I being grumpy?" he asked, pressing his hands against his eyes. "Can't imagine why."

"Please, Drew. You're not the only one with a headache," Joanne sighed, turning back to him. "And you're not the only one confused. I mean, I love Beep-beep, but I can't imagine how I ended up in your VIP suite, in my underwear, with a new pet ostrich."

"Particularly without any mode of transportation," Drew mumbled. He started to pat his pockets.

Joanne gasped, making him jerk his eyes painfully back toward her. "Do you think we _rode Beep-beep_?" she asked, her eyes wide. She looked over at her ostrich, who tilted his head back at her quizzically.

It took everything he had to keep from face palming. "Joanne, he couldn't _carry_ us both," he said. “Have you seen my cell? Or my wallet for that matter?” He leaned over, tossing discarded pillows and piles of feathers aside in search for his cell.

"Hey, don't you judge him," Joanne said, pouting. "You don't know him, you don't know his _life_!"

"Aha!" He waved his cell over his head after retrieving it from the foot of the bed. "Let's see if there are any clues in here." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Like a call to a _cab_ company."

Joanne stuck her tongue out at him and turned back to her ostrich. "Don't listen to him, Beep-beep. He's just jealous 'cause you have prettier feathers."

"What the f-…" Drew muttered, staring at the screen. "That makes absolutely zero sense."

"What?" Joanne moved closer. "No cab company?"

"No," Drew said, shaking his head. "Just twelve missed calls and the weirdest text I've ever seen." He handed her the cell.

"'Finished all the science,'" Joanne read out loud, "'Jo wants O, are you done with the cake?'" She handed it back to him, her face twisted in confusion. "Who was _that_ from?"

"Katie." He shook his head, frowning, and tucked the cell into his back pocket. "Ok, what's the last thing you remember?" he asked her.

Joanne squinted her eyes in concentration. "Adrian…and the garage…" she muttered finally.

Drew nodded. "Me too. I think we should start there."

The ringing that woke Katie was loud, and sharp, and stupid, and also loud. She had no idea where it was coming from, but it _had to stop_.

She groaned as she levered herself upright. What was going on? Everything hurt, and her head felt like it might explode any moment. Was…

Was she dying?

Another ring stabbed itself through her ear, and she grimaced. 

Thankfully, the source of the noise wasn't far from her. On her desk (she was surprised to realize she was in her own room. Wasn't she just at the garage?) was a boring, yet quite fancy looking cell. And it was _shrieking_ at her.

"Hello?" Her voice was thick, but that was probably the _misery_.

"Who is this?" a male voice asked her from the other side. It seemed familiar, but thinking hurt too much for her to strain to place it.

"Katie Johnson," she croaked out as she looked down at herself. Was she still wearing her shoes? 

The man made an exasperated noise. "I should have guessed. Katie, being my favorite student doesn't give you clearance to keep breaking into my class room, okay? This has to stop."

"Wait, what?" Katie mumbled, dropping back down to sit on her bed. These weren't even _her_ shoes. Where did she get these shoes? "What are you talking about? Who is this?" And was she still wearing her jacket? _What_?

There was a pause. "Katie?" He sounded concerned now. "Are you drunk?"

That, at least, was something she knew the answer to. "No!" she answered emphatically. "I don't even _like_ alcohol."

The man didn't seem to believe her. "I can't believe you broke into my office to do drunken science on my whiteboard," he muttered, ignoring her attempts at denial. "Does any of this even mean anything? Where are you? Are you still on campus?"

"Listen, phone person!" She was starting to feel frantic. "I _don't know, okay_? I don't know what's going on, or what you're talking about, or even who you are!" In any other situation she'd feel ashamed about how whiney her voice was getting. "I don't even know whose cell this is. It's not my cell, _where_ is my cell?"

"Five more minutes…" a new male voice, not from the cell, muttered behind her.

"Eep!" she squeaked, jumping up and spinning, almost falling over. She stared at her bed, her chest heaving in panic.

There was someone there.

_ In her bed _ .

"Katie? Are you okay?" the first guy called.

She put the cell back to her ear. "I don't know," she answered honestly, her voice tiny.

"Ok, Katie? I'm pretty sure I have your cell." He was clearly trying to sound soothing. "Is it purple and blue and sparkly?"

"Yes!" Katie cried in relief. The boy in her bed started to shift, and she backed away nervously, lowering her voice. "Where are you? How did you get it?" 

"This is Mr. Caldwell, Katie, I'm in my classroom. You left it here, along with an entire wall of equations and things that I can't decipher for the life of me." His tone was dry, but slightly amused. "You also seem to have taken my cell, that should be what you're talking to me on now. I have to assume you did so on purpose, our cells look absolutely _nothing_ alike."

"Oh, god, Mr. Caldwell…I'm _so_ sorry!" Katie put her hand to her head, mortified. "I didn't- I don't know…Mr. Caldwell, the last thing I remember is the garage where I work, I don't-" 

Her panicked apology cut off when the boy in her bed levered himself upright. " _Adrian_?" she squawked.

Adrian cringed in response, and suddenly Katie could hear other voices getting closer from the other side of her door. "Oh, no, uh," She turned her attention back to the cell. "Mr. Caldwell, I'm still really sorry, but I gotta go," she said as she did a frenzied check in her head. Was she fully clothed? Yes. Adrian? Yes. Oddly, but fully clothed nonetheless. Anything illegal or immoral in plain view? She spun in a circle, slower this time to avoid losing what little balance she had. She sighed, well, except for a boy being in her bed, she seemed okay. "I promise I'll get to the school as soon as I can to switch cells, okay? I'm really _really_ sorry!"

She hung up right as her door crashed open. The small part of her mind that wasn't either freaking out or throbbing was a little annoyed; really? Not even an _attempt_ to knock? Rude.

"What is the _meaning_ of this?" Mildred screeched, because of _course_ it was Mildred hovering in her doorway, her silhouette taking up almost the entirety of the width of the frame. "I don't know _what_ has gotten _into_ you, young lady-" Her tangent cut off into a high-pitched, dramatic gasp as she caught sight of Adrian easing out of her bed.

Em's head popped up behind her mother. "Hey, Katie, can I have some?"

Katie's eyes widened. "Some _what_?" she choked, her eyes zipping from Em to Adrian and back again.

"Emmaline, get back to the living room, for shame!" Mildred sounded utterly appalled. She turned back to Katie, her jaw clenched. "As if your behavior last night weren't bad enough," she ground out. 

"What are you talking about?" Katie asked, overwhelmed, at the same time as Adrian growled "Lady, what the hell?" She glanced back at him desperately. This was all too much. "What behavior, Mildred? What did I do?"

"Oh, you don't remember?" She scoffed. "Well, that's typical. What is it? Drugs? Alcohol?" Her voice got more piercing with each word. "Or demonic possession, maybe? You know, this is what happens when you spend your time with witches and blasphemers, and unholy-"

Adrian stumbled toward her and grabbed both of her shoulders, shocking her into silence. "Woman, I swear to whatever deity you're thumping about," he said, bitterly, "If you do not shut your annoyingly shrill mouth immediately, I will puke _right_ in your face."

Mildred sucked in another melodramatic gasp, and retreated hastily, horrified. Adrian turned back to Katie. "Where are we?" he asked, almost conversationally. 

Katie raised her eyebrows. "My house. I think." Adrian nodded, and she slumped. "Do you remember anything?" she asked, hopelessly.

Adrian shook his head. Katie looked like she might cry. He reached over and patted her back. "Hey, it's gonna be fine," he murmured. 

"You seem pretty unconcerned about all of this." Katie eyed him incredulously.

Adrian shrugged. "Not my first blackout," he said simply. He faltered when Katie's disbelief surged. "I don't want to go into it," he added, his eyes narrowing. 

"Well, it's my first one," Katie grumbled, deflating. "What do we do?"

"Don't worry about it," he said cheerfully, hugging her shoulders. "It's like a mystery story, it'll be fun." He moved past her, through her door, and turned back. "So, what's the last thing you remember?" he asked, walking backward down the hall. 

She couldn't understand how he was doing that. She could barely stay upright. "Well, the garage, but," She held up the cell. Whatever they did, she had to get to the school first.

But Adrian wasn't paying attention anymore, staring with wide eyes through the archway that led to the living room. "What?" he dragged out quietly, flabbergasted.

Katie rushed forward, a hand on the wall to steady herself. When she reached the corner and saw into the living room, her jaw dropped.

Cake.

_ Everywhere _ .

Every surface available was covered in trays of wildly varying flavors of cake. They each had their own protective plastic dome, so larger surfaces - like the dining room table - had cakes stacked three or more high. 

No wonder Mildred was livid.

Em was standing in the living room, waving at her. She had to stand, of course, because both the couch and the love seat were piled high with cake. She gestured toward one of the cakes, a big one that looked like chocolate fudge, mouthing 'Can I have some?'

Katie almost laughed in relief. She'd meant the _cake_!

Before she could answer, Mildred emerged from the depths of the kitchen, brandishing the house phone. "I just called the cops, you little hooligan!" she heaved, her voice tight. She sounded nervous, almost even scared. 

"What, like I was gonna stick around?" Adrian drawled, over his shock. He glanced around. "Besides, you clearly have your hands full. What is this, for a bake sale or something? Maybe a bit excessive."

Mildred swelled. "These aren't mine!" she cried, and jammed a finger accusingly toward Katie. "You did this! You _know_ how I feel about cake!" She turned away, covering her mouth as though distraught. "As if your conduct at the play last night wasn't bad enough, as if the way you _humiliated me_ in my _own church_ wasn't _enough_ ," she sobbed pathetically, her eyes perfectly dry.

"Lady, _you_ are a lousy liar." Adrian chortled. He turned back to Katie. "Exit?"

Katie nodded to the right, where the front door was barely visible past the towering pile of cake on the dining table, while Mildred started to sputter. "How-how-DARE you-" Katie glanced over at Em, taking advantage of Mildred's momentary distraction, and made a small, pointed nod toward the giant cake she was ogling.

Em snatched up the cake and bolted for her room without a second's hesitation. As weird as she was, Katie couldn't help feeling bad for her. Poor girl had been living with Mildred her whole life, after all.

"Listen, don't try and blame me for your pathological need for attention, okay lady?" Adrian said flippantly, adjusting his coat as he brushed past her, heading toward the door. Katie shadowed him, keeping right on his heels as he weaved through her stepmother's clutches with unprecedented ease. "That blame falls squarely on your father," he continued. "You may have been his little princess, but the rest of the world couldn't care less if you get what you want, okay?"

Mildred's mouth hung open as she stared after him in horrified awe.

"You _have_ to teach me how to do that," she muttered to him as she closed the door behind them. "I've never gotten away from her that easily when she's like that."

Adrian chuckled. "It's mostly just targeted guessing," he said as they approached the driveway. "A little practice, maybe…" He drew up short when he caught sight of the vehicles in the driveway.

Katie snorted. "That explains the cake…" she muttered.

Parked beside what must have been Adrian's car (it was much nicer than Mildred or Adam's, though it had never occurred to her that Adrian may have money) was a large catering van, emblazoned with the logo for 'Variety: Cakes by Ariel'.

"Keys…" Adrian muttered, beginning to pat his pockets. He frowned when he caught sight of his shirt. "What the…?"

"Yeah, I was wondering about that. So it's not a new style, I guess?" she asked him hopefully.

"Solid black polyester? Not even sort of." He plucked at the shirt distastefully, and went back to searching through his pockets.

Katie started rifling through hers as well, mildly surprised when she came up with a set of keys, a handful of feathers, and what looked like a belt buckle.

"Well, that's the van," he said, his eyebrows furrowing as he held up a set of keys on a keychain with a logo matching the one on the van. 

"Are these ones to yours?" Katie asked, holding out the keys she'd found.

His face brightened. "Oh, good. I was worried we'd have to go back inside." He took the keys and tossed them into the air playfully. "So, where to first? The cake place, or the garage?"

Katie shook her head. "I have to go to the school first," she said, and quickly explained about the cells.

"Should we split up, then?" Adrian asked with a frown, holding up both sets of keys.

Katie stared at the van apprehensively. "I've never driven anything that big." 

"Then take mine," Adrian said with a shrug, handing back his keys.

Katie's eyes widened. "I couldn't-"

Adrian rolled his eyes. "You already did, why else would you have my keys?" When she still wavered, he grabbed her hand and pressed his keys into it. "It's fine, you get going. Let me know when you have your cell back, I'll let you know whatever I find out, okay?"

She hesitated a moment longer. "I'll be _very_ careful," she said finally, closing her fingers around the keys. "I promise." 

Adrian waited until she was gone to take a second look at the paper he'd found in his inside pocket. He had another stop to make before finding the cake shop.

"Joanne, what are you doing?"

Joanne widened her eyes innocently. "What?"

Beside her, Beep-beep warbled cheerfully, tilting his head at Drew.

"He's not coming," Drew said flatly.

"What?" Joanne gasped. "We can't just _leave_ him!"

The cab driver stick his head out the window, staring at the bird. "What exactly is that thing?"

"It's an ostrich," Drew supplied. "And it's not coming with us."

"But we can't leave him all alone, he'll be scared!" Joanne cried.

"Lady, I don't think it's gonna fit in my cab," The driver said blandly.

"No, no," Joanne said, waving her hand. "It only seems that way because his legs are long and his feathers are so fluffy, he's actually _much_ smaller than he looks!"

"Joanne," Drew grumbled, agitated.

She was having none of it. "Please?" she whined, jutting out her lip. "Look, he's even wearing shoes!"

Drew sighed, giving up. "He's sitting in the back with you," he said irritably. 

Joanne cheered, Beep-beep flapped his wings, and the driver groaned. "If that thing does its business on my seats…"

"I'll pay for it," Drew said shortly, climbing into the passenger's seat.

Thankfully, the trip was relatively short. Even with Joanne petting and distracting him, Beep-beep still managed to freak out the driver. Who knew an ostrich's neck could bend that way? But they made it to Rudy's garage with little to no incident, and in record time. Drew was relieved to see his car parked safely in the lot, right where he'd left it.

"Keep the change," Drew said, handing the driver what was easily twice the fare. Luckily he'd had some cash stored in a drawer in his kitchen, since he still couldn't find his wallet. The driver took it and sped off without a word.

"What now?" Joanne asked as the dust settled. Drew couldn't help but shrug. She turned to her ostrich, who fluffed out his feathers in a similar motion. He'd have laughed, if he weren't so freaked out.

"Where have you two been?" a gruff voice sounded behind them. They spun, (except Beep-beep, who was busying himself with pecking at the ground) to see Rudy standing in the opening to the garage, frowning at them. "And seriously, what's the deal with the bird?"

"You know Beep-beep?" Joanne asked, excited. "Is he yours? Do you live together and have wacky adventures?"

"I know the what now?" he eyed her curiously. "What's your name again?"

Drew stepped closer. "You recognize the ostrich?"

"Is that thing wearing ballet slippers?" Rudy muttered.

Joanne placed her hand protectively on Beep-beep's back. "Don't you judge him. He can wear what he wants."

"Seriously, Rudy," Drew held a hand out to interrupt them. "Were you here last night? Did you see what happened?"

Rudy turned to look at him sharply. "What do you mean, 'did I see what happened'?" he asked. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"No," Drew answered quickly.

"Maybe," Joanne corrected.

Drew hunched his shoulders. "We can't remember," he admitted.

Rudy looked from Drew, to Joanne, and finally rested on Beep-beep. "…drugs?"

"No!" Joanne answered immediately, looking horrified.

"Maybe," Drew muttered. Joanne turned to glare at him, and he lifted his shoulders again, defensively. "What? We can't remember!"

"Ok, look, all I know is this one," Rudy pointed at Joanne, "And the pink one and the other guy, they were chasing that," and he pointed at Beep-beep, "All around my garage, through the trees and all over the place."

Beep-beep gurgled and bobbed his head. Joanne giggled.

"What about Katie?" Drew asked, starting to look worried.

"Oh, she went with you," Rudy said, squinting in concentration. "Yeah, you came down first, yelling at the pink one, then while they were all running around, you and Katie left in the pink one's car." He grimaced. "I know because she came at me afterward, shrieking like a banshee because her car was gone." He looked back at Joanne. "You and the other guy left after that, and I'm pretty sure you took this thing with you," he waved at Beep-beep. "I didn't see it again after that. It and that other girl."

"Other girl?" Joanne stared at him blankly. 

Rudy nodded. "I forget her name, but she was the one that got Katie and him fighting a few weeks back," he said, pointing his thumb at Drew.

What the hell? "Isobel?" Joanne blurted. 

Drew shook his head. "But _who_ is 'the pink one'?"

Joanne narrowed her eyes. "That poofy girl was wearing a lot of pink," she said thoughtfully, looking dazed.

"Poofy girl?" he muttered, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

"Yeah…" Joanne frowned. "There was a girl with weird hair and all kinds of pink clothes…"

Drew snapped his fingers. "Valerie," he said, his nose wrinkled in distaste, in the same moment as his cell began to ring.

"Katie?" he said as soon as he picked up.

"Don't you _dare_ mention that girl's name to me!"

Drew groaned. "Hello, Valerie." Speak of the devil… He could hear something like a revving engine, and Joanne started to fuss over Beep-beep. "How did you get this number?"

"You called _me_ remember? Last night? I've been trying to reach you all morning. Do you mind telling me what the exact crap you did to my _car_?" Valerie screeched rapidly.

"I honestly don't know," he sighed. Beep-beep's neck was inflating oddly, he'd never seen an ostrich do that. Of course, he didn't make a habit of observing ostriches. "I assume _you_ know, why don't you tell me?"

"Well, you only just completely _destroyed_ it!" she continued to shout. "It was _brand new_!"

"What, you mean it's crashed somewhere? Where are you?" Rudy said Katie had been in the car with him, what if she'd been hurt?

He got the address from her and hung up quickly, unconcerned by her fresh tangent. She'd have plenty of opportunity to yell at him when he got there. The revving sound stopped quickly after he hung up, and he was surprised to realize it had been coming from the ostrich.

"He definitely doesn't like Valerie," Joanne said with a frown, petting his back soothingly.

"Well, then, he's definitely not going to like where we're headed next," Drew said. "The pink girl's car? Apparently it crashed somewhere." 

Joanne's eyes widened. "Is Katie…?"

Drew shook his head. "I don't know, I'm headed there now to see what I can find out. Are you coming?"

She nodded quickly, and ran after him toward his car. "Rudy, could you watch Beep-beep?" she called over her shoulder. "He's really nice, and he won't like where we're going, okay?" She hopped into Drew's car without waiting for an answer, which is good, because if she'd waited the answer would have been 'No.'

Rudy glanced over at the ostrich, disconcerted. Beep-beep warbled and flapped his wings obliviously.

"Mr. Caldwell?" Katie knocked on the open classroom door.

He waved her in. He was sitting opposite his desk, leaning against one of the students' tables, staring at his white board. And no wonder, Katie thought, as she moved into view. It was completely covered in a mess of equations and diagrams and notes. 

Had _she_ done that? She pressed a hand to her forehead. It was her hand writing, and some of it even looked vaguely intelligible. But she could not for the life of her remember writing it.

Mr. Caldwell held out her phone when she'd gotten within arm's length. Katie handed him his, and slumped down next to him. "So, is this supposed to mean anything?" he asked, gesturing toward the board.

Katie shook her head, still staring at the board, trying to will it to make sense. She could see points of clarity here and there, but it refused to come together in her head. It's like her mind was pumping molasses, instead of whatever it usually pumped. What, like, blood? Ugh…she'd have to look that up, she couldn't think…

"I don't know…" she muttered unhappily. "I can't remember…ugh, _anything_ …" 

"And you're sure you're not drunk?" he asked, "Or, _were_ drunk," he amended hastily, when she turned to stare at him reproachfully.

"I'm very sure," Katie said, setting her jaw. "If anything, I was drugged. But I don't know how that could have happened, either." She buried her face in her hands. "There was lunch, but the memory loss doesn't begin until nearly an hour after…" she continued muttering to herself.

"Katie, dear, maybe I can help. Can I see your hand?" Mr. Caldwell asked, offering her his.

Katie looked up in shock. "Omigod, I completely forgot!"

"Gasp!" he said the word out loud, his tone heavily mocking. "Am I a retrocog?"

Katie made a face. "Don't be a jerk," she said, and held out her hand.

Mr. Caldwell chuckled, but took her hand. He closed his eyes in concentration, and Katie's hand and all the way up to her elbow started to tingle and feel warm. After a moment, he started to frown.

"What…" he muttered quietly to himself. His grip tightened and he bowed his head.

"Mr. Caldwell?" Her arm was starting to get uncomfortably hot. Was this normal for retrocognative episodes?

He sighed in disgust, dropping her hand. "I can't be sure what happened," he said. "But whatever it was, it involved silver."

Katie's eyes widened. "Silver?"

Mr. Caldwell nodded. "And a lot of it. I'm no slouch, but I could barely make anything out." He grimaced. "A lot of cake, feathers, a cartoon turkey…" he shook his head. "An ostrich, for some reason." He sighed. "I couldn't even see you doing _this_ ," he said, gesturing at the board. "And I'm in the room with you, the person who _did_ it!"

Katie glanced back over at the white board. The throbbing in her head had eased slightly - maybe something to do with whatever Mr. Caldwell had done - and now she was sure there was a point to whatever she'd scribbled. She just…couldn't…figure it out! She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This is so messed up," she mumbled.

Mr. Caldwell patted her shoulder. "I wish I could be more help," he said regretfully. "I've never been this utterly blocked off before. You're going to have to approach this organically, I'm afraid." Katie groaned, and he chuckled. "Any idea where you're going to start?" he said with a small snort, amused.

Katie made another face at him. "I think so, actually," she said. She took a deep breath and stood. "A cartoon turkey, you said?"

He smiled. "Yeah. Oh, hey," he called before she walked off. "What about all this?" he asked, pointing back at the board.

Katie winced. (It seemed like she was doing that a lot today.) "Ugh, I can't even…" She jumped suddenly. "Oh, wait! Duh." She lifted the cell she was still holding. "I'll take a picture. Maybe it'll make more sense after breakfast. And an aspirin." 

"Thought I'd see you today." The man behind the counter guffawed at Adrian, as he stepped through the doors to the courthouse. "Your friends back for that annulment?"

Adrian frowned. "You recognize me?"

"Couldn't much forget you, could I?" the man said with a smirk. "Not with that getup, and the fuss you made over being the one to marry your friends. Still think you're too young to be a priest, though."

Adrian glanced down at himself. He knew the shirt wasn't his, but a priest? Good lord, if he mugged a priest… "My friends?" Adrian asked, pulling out the paper from his jacket pocket. He'd figure out the clothes later. "You mean these two?" he asked, handing over the marriage certificate. 

The man glanced over it and nodded. "They both need to be here for the annulment, though. They need to sign, you can't do it for them."

"But I don't know either of these people," Adrian said, taking back the certificate. "I've never heard either of these names before in my life."

"Could have fooled me. You seemed like the best of friends last night." He harrumphed. "Those names are accurate," he added sternly, tapping the paper. "Identities are verified with a DNA scan. Whatever you're used to calling them, those are their _legal_ names."

"Right." Adrian folded the certificate carefully. "I'll have to ask them about it later." He wasn't sure why, but he wasn't all that comfortable talking to this guy about his inconvenient lack of memory. "You wouldn't happen to have heard where the lot of us were heading after the nuptials, would you?" he asked, tucking the certificate back into his jacket. "I seem to have misplaced a couple of my friends."

His attempt at humor seemed to have placated the clerk. "Just that one of the girls, Katharine I think, she was freaking out about needing some chalk or something. You and the other guy offered to drop the girls off somewhere, while you did something with…cake?"

"Right. Cake." Adrian shot a fleeting look toward the front door, where the van was parked. "Speaking of, do you know how to get to Variety from here?"

“You again?” The pastor stared at her in horror when Katie wandered into the church. Well, she assumed it was a church. The sign said it was a church. It looked more like an office building to her. She had yet to see a _single_ stained glass window. “Will you be telling the children that there's no such thing as Santa Claus, now?”

“Why would I do that?” Katie asked, frowning in confusion. “There's _totally_ a Santa Claus.”

“And I would appreciate it if your friend would return that priest's costume,” the minister said, turning away. He seemed to be busy arranging stage props in some type of storage closet. “And if you're feeling magnanimous, you can replace the hat you destroyed,” he grumbled.

“Hat?” Katie squinted. “I've got a beret somewhere, I think,” she offered. “What does a priest costume look like?”

“What do you mean, what does it look like?” He shoved a plastic horn of plenty into the closet a little harder than was absolutely necessary. “The idiot was standing right in front of you, what did you think he was wearing?”

She was sure he had a reason to be upset, but she had been expecting someone nicer. Perhaps with an irish accent. The kind of church-leader guys she'd seen on tv, who were helpful and friendly, and gave really good advice and junk. This guy just seemed like someone's grumpy, bitter old grandpa, who hated everyone but who refused to ever die.

“Listen, I'm sorry about whatever happened, but I honestly can't remember-”

Father Grumpyface McButthead snorted derisively. “Figures,” he said, turning back to her. “Alcohol? Or Drugs?”

Katie flushed. “Not that it's any of your business, but neither,” she said curtly. She decided not to clarify. Somehow she thought the real reason for her memory loss wouldn't fare any better with this guy than drugs or alcohol. “Look, you clearly don't want me here any more than I want to be here. I only came to try and fill in some blanks. You help me out, and I'll be on my way.”

The preacher frowned at her. “I don't much like your tone, young lady,” he said in a priggish way that was so similar to Mildred's that she suddenly wondered if maybe they were related. “But it just so happens that one of my congregation left her camera with me. She recorded the whole thing.” He gestured to the door. “You can watch it in my office.” He seemed a little smug. Vindictive, even. Just exactly how bad was it?

Apparently the bishop's (she was running out of church-leader titles. She might have to ask which one he actually was...) office was on the opposite side of the building. He led her down the hall and through a large room to get to it. This large room seemed to be the churchy-est. Still no stained glass, but it _did_ have those long bench things.

Then they stepped through the door to his office, and without meaning to, Katie yelped, “Holy crap!”

He jumped and turned to glare at her reproachfully, but really. Weren't men of god supposed to take a vow of poverty, or something? That tv was absurdly large.

“What I'd like to know...” Father Thomas (he had his name on a little plaque on his desk, saving her the trouble of asking, which was considerate.) grumbled, “Is how someone like you ended up in my church to begin with.” He was fiddling with the camera, attaching it to the tv.

“I'll add that to my list,” Katie remarked drily. She turned her attention back to the oversized tv, were the video had begun to play. The fact that Father Thomas fast-fowarded past the first twenty minutes of inane adolescent play almost made up for all the rudeness.

When he let it play, Katie could see she had somehow managed to make her way on to the stage. “This is completely wrong!” she was crying at the kids on the stage. “Why are all your clothes _black_? Do you have any idea how expensive black cloth was back then??” She spun on her heel (was she wearing _clogs_?) to gape at the fake table. “And what is with that gigantic turkey? You know how unlikely it is that they had turkey at that feast? You need like, a goose. Or a duck. And where's all the fish? There's no fish here, why isn't there any fish? There would have been _so much fish_.”

“You go on like that for a few minutes,” Father Tom said, fast-forwarding again. “You seemed particularly offended by the buckles,” he said, nodding toward the tv as last-night Katie stole a kid's hat and yanked the buckle off of it at double speed. 

Katie, her cheeks blazing, pulled the buckle she'd found earlier from her pocket. Well, one item on the list down, at least. She offered the buckle to Tom, who took it and placed it on his desk, looking mildly amused in spite of himself.

“Ah,” he said, “Here's where Mr. Campbell tried to get you under control.”

Katie's eyebrows shot up. Adam? Seriously? Trying to control her? Wouldn't he need a spine first?

But there he _was_ , barely visible through all the irate parents. They had started to crowd the stage not long after she first got up there. The camera hadn't moved at all, though. She had to assume it was on a tripod.

The top of Adam's distinctively balding head vanished among the throng, but she could hear him yelling at her once he'd gotten close enough to the stage. “Katie, what are you thinking? _Brandon_ is here, is this the impression you want him to have of you? Get _down_ from there!”

Last-night Katie rounded on him, pouting. “No,” she said petulantly. “I don't like him, and I don't like you, and I don't have to do anything you say. Kiss my exceptionally sized and stocked brain, you-” She ended by calling him a foul name that she rarely used. The comically dramatic collective gasp that rushed through the crowd almost made up for her embarrassingly crude language.

Wow. Last-night Katie was feisty.

“How dare you!” Mildred was so short she needed a step stool to get into bed, so it didn't surprise her that she wasn't visible in the crowd. But that voice was unmistakable. “Young lady, that is your _father_! Until the day you are married, he is the foremost authority in your life! Now you do as he says this very instant!”

“Screw you!” Last-night Katie said, stomping her foot (of all things.)

“Wait, so all she has to do is _get married_?” Adrian suddenly appeared from stage right. He was wearing the same black shirt from this morning, as well as a tall red and white striped hat and oversized star-shaped sunglasses. Even odder (if it was possible,) where the overly large ballet slippers he had tied together and was swinging around like nun chucks. “I believe I could take care of that.”

Katie couldn't see Joanne, but could faintly hear her complain, “You can't marry her! We're supposed to eat each other's brains!”

“Don't be an idiot,” she heard Mildred snap, which she found ironic, coming from her. “You can't marry anyone. Now, both of you, get off the stage!”

“Excuse you, ma'am,” Adrian said haughtily, whipping off his glasses dramatically. Or as dramatically as one can whip off star-shaped sunglasses the size of dinner plates. “I am a priest. Clearly.” He indicated his weird shirt. “But Jo's right, my brain is spoken for.” He raised his voice. “Who wants to marry this charming lady?”

The parents started to mutter amongst themselves angrily. But several broke off into a gasp when Drew vaulted onto the stage from the center portion of the audience. “I'll bite that bullet,” he said, grinning.

Adrian clapped his hands together. “Fantastic!”

“What are you doing?” Mildred sputtered. “You're not marrying this girl! All of you, just, just, _leave!!_ ”

“I'll do whatever I want, thank you,” Drew said in a kind of stern, superior tone that she'd only caught hints of during her time with him, like when he'd bought her dress.

The murmuring among the adults was getting louder, but nothing could stop Adrian. “Now, Drew, do you solemnly swear that, in the event of a Zombie Apocal-”

Katie jumped when the video suddenly started fast-forwarding again. She'd been getting rather engrossed. She turned to Father Tom, pouting. “I can't believe you're skipping my _wedding_ ,” she whispered the last word harshly, like he was breaking her heart.

The Father rolled his eyes, looking so much like a teenager that it legitimately freaked her out. “Don't insult the institution by comparing that circus to an actual wedding.” He motioned toward the screen. “Now, I don't know who this one is...”

Whatever Katie had been expecting when she turned back to the tv, it was _not_ that it would be Isobel, Standing center stage, surrounded by floating plastic fruit.

“What the hell?”

“Watch your mouth.” He paused the video just as the fruit started to fly in all different directions, and the apparently real, cooked turkey popped like a balloon. “Whoever she is, and however she did this, I'd rather not know.” He moved back to the tv and started fiddling with the camera. “But if you know her, which you seem to, would you let her know that she owes the main street homeless shelter a turkey, and also that she is never to set foot in this building again?”

She wasn't exactly on ultimatum-passing terms with Isobel, but she couldn't exactly say no. “I'll make sure she gets the message,” she said. If she had to, she could get the turkey herself, and she couldn't think of any reason why Isobel would want to come back, anyway.

“Thank you,” Father Tom said simply. He glanced over. “I wouldn't much mind if you kept your distance as well.”

Katie nodded. “Point taken. Thank you, for showing me that, though.” She hesitated, worried he might scoff, or wouldn't believe her, but continued anyway. “I'm really sorry about what happened,” she apologized, before turning to leave.

He didn't say anything. But at least he didn't scoff.

As she was finding her way to what she hoped was the front door, she passed a burly, heavily tattooed guy. In a word, she would describe him as 'Thug'.

“Excuse me,” he grunted as she passed, sounding as though he were trying to be polite, but had little to no experience with it. “You haven't seen any cameras around, have you?”

Katie raised an eyebrow, extremely confused, but waved back toward the office she'd just left. “The Father has one, I think from one of the parents. Why?”

The man wasn't paying her much attention anymore. “Just gotta pick it up for someone,” he said distractedly, walking away even as he said it.

Weird, Katie thought. He really didn't look like the kind of person that went to this church.

Drew could kill Valerie.

“You call this a _wreck_?” he bit out. “I can't believe you would blow up my cell with this foolishness, you _rancid heifer._ ”

“You wreck my car, and _I'm_ the heffalump?” Valerie's voice was unbearably shrill.

“ _Wreck_??” Drew threw his arms out incredulously at the car, currently parked crosswise in the pathway by the street. The first foot or so from the front bumper was wrapped around a lamppost, but the rest was pristine. The cab of the car was untouched. “This is barely more than a ding! The way you were carrying on, I thought it would be a pancake!”

“It won't _start_!” Valerie cried. To her credit, she did look genuinely distraught. “And where are my _pillows?_ It wasn't enough to steal my car, you had to steal my goose down pillows? _Do you have any idea how hard it is to find goose down pillows_?”

Drew's face and voice were utterly saturated with sarcasm. “You mean how it's the twenty-first century, and technology has advanced to where you can get pillows that _stay_ fluffy and won't stab you in the face with _feather quills_? No, but I can guess.”

“Well, we clearly survived this,” Joanne said, waving toward the car, completely ignoring Valerie's pouting face. “Do you think we took a cab from here?”

Drew sighed, pressing his fingers against his temple. “ _Someone_ must have seen what happened...”

“Who _cares_ what happened??” Valerie sobbed. “My car is _trashed_ , my pillows are _stolen_ , my _shoes_ are _ruined_ , and Sebastian is _gone_...and you don't even care!!”

Joanne tilted her head. “Sebastian?” 

“My pet ostrich,” Valerie growled, (not sounding much like she had just been sobbing) “And _you're_ the one who let him out of my car!”

“You have...a pet ostrich?” Joanne's eyes were wide and extremely innocent. “Really? ...That's weird...I wonder where he could be...”

Drew's hand flew up to cover his mouth. “Well, at least you know he wasn't in the car when this happened,” he said to Valerie reasonably, his voice only slightly strained.

Valerie wasn't consoled. “Why are you doing this to me?” she breathed, staring at him with a pained expression.

“I'm not-” Drew started to say, incredulous.

“Is this because of that stupid experiment stuff?”

Drew nearly choked. “Wait, _what_?”

"Hey Drew, can I ask you something?" Joanne continued without waiting for permission. "Because I've seen your apartment, and I've seen your car, and one of these things is not like the other."

Drew sighed. "It's a long story, Joanne, can we talk about this after we've found Katie?"

"His maid gave it to him." Valerie sneered. Drew groaned. 

"Well that wasn't so long..."

"My family's _housekeeper_ ," he started to correct her in a growling voice. "When my dad cut me off-"

"And took all of your cars," Valerie added.

"Cars?" Joanne emphasized the S. "As in plural? You had plural cars?"

Drew sighed again. "My dad and I fought and he cut me off, and Nicolette gave me her old car because I had fixed it for her years before."

"That explains where the piece of junk _came_ from," Valerie said snottily. "But not why you keep it around. You have your inheritance now, why don't you get a decent car?"

"I keep it to remind myself never to turn back into someone like _you_ ," he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

"You were never _that_ bad..."Joanne said, half questioning.

"I was close."

“Joanne!” Joanne whipped her head around at the sound of her name. Pulling up to the curb behind them was a large van with a logo for the cake place nearby. And hanging out the driver's side window in a way that made her very nervous, was a priest who looked a shockingly lot like Adrian.

“How'd you guys get here? Did you get cake, too?” Father Adrian asked when he hopped out of the van. “I can't believe there was any left.” He made directly for Joanne when he got near, sweeping her into his arms. “Oh, it's so good to see you, I was worried! Where did you end up, anyway? And why aren't you answering your cell?”

"I can't find my cell, and Drew can't find his wallet.” Joanne's voice was strained from how tightly he was squeezing her. “Do you have it?”

“Afraid not, sweetness. But if you need an inflatable pig, let me know,” he said, grinning, as he set her back down.

Drew moved close to Valerie's car – she was preoccupied trying to get it to start – and peered through the windows. “Is your cell orange and yellow?”

“Oh!” Joanne jumped toward the car. “Is it in there?”

“Looks like it,” Drew said, opening the back door. “At least that's one place we know you were last night”

“Do you think Isobel was still with us here?” Joanne wondered out loud as she gathered her cell from the floor board of the car.

“I don't give half a rotten booger if Isobel was with us,” Drew growled. “I still have no idea what happened to Katie.”

“Katie's at campus,” Adrian said promptly. “She left her cell in a classroom, she had to go get it.”

Drew sighed, moderately relieved. “She's okay?” he asked.

“Who cares about _her_?” Valerie whined, dropping her head onto the steering wheel. “What about _me_? What about my _car_?” She rocked her head to the side to gaze up at Drew at an angle, her eyes over bright. “What am I supposed to do now?” she whimpered.

“Just call the police, Valerie,” Drew said, exasperated. “Tell them someone stole your car and crashed it.”

“ _You_ stole my car and crashed it.”

“Yeah, well, have fun proving it.” Drew snorted.

“Do you have any idea what happened last night?” Joanne asked Adrian, oblivious to Valerie yet again.

“I think we're all going to have to compare notes to get a clear picture,” he said. “But I'm thinking there's a seventy-eight percent chance that we knocked over a cake shop.”

Joanne's eyes widened to the size of saucers. “With what, a bulldozer?” She gasped. “Did you find a bulldozer?”

“He means 'robbed',” Drew said, smirking. Joanne slumped in disappointment. “Why do you think so?” he asked, looking past Adrian at the van he'd parked.

“Well, I gotta say, I was a little suspicious when I saw enough cake piled in Katie's living room to feed half a third world country, and a pod of whales-”

“So enough for Mildred, then,” Drew cut in. “Is that where the van came from?”

Adrian shrugged. “No clue, that's what I'm doing here. I was going to take a look at the shop, see if they recognized me.”

“If they had, would you have run?” Joanne asked.

“We can all go,” Drew said. He pointed at the cake shop a few doors down. “It's that one, right?”

“Wait, where are you going?” Valerie tried to grab his arm, but he dodged.

“To deal with our problem. Like adults,” Drew snapped, losing his temper. “If you _can't_ do the same, call your father. Because you're not my responsibility.”

She stared after him as he walked away, shocked speechless and extremely disturbed.

“I'm sorry, we don't have any pre-made cakes right now,” Ariel called when she heard the bell ding. “But we're still taking orders.”

“Oh, trust me,” she heard a vaguely familiar, mischievous voice drawl. “We do _not_ need any more cake.”

When she turned her face lit up with recognition. “Oh, good! You're here for your wallet?” she asked, looking from Adrian, who had spoken, to Drew, whose eyes widened.

“I left my wallet here?” Drew asked, stepping up to the counter despite his shock.

“Well, yes,” she said, crouching to open the safe under the counter and retrieve his wallet. “It was taking too long to ring everything up, and she was worried the courthouse would close.” She nodded to Joanne as she stood, and handed Drew his wallet. “You still have about a dozen cakes in the back.”

“Courthouse?” Joanne frowned. “Why did I want to go to the courthouse?”

Ariel stared at her blankly. “Wasn't someone getting married?” she asked hesitantly.

Joanne's jaw dropped. “I got _married_?” she squeaked. “To _who_?”

Ariel could only shrug. “I'm really sorry, but you were all kind of hard to understand, and I was ringing up cake.”

“So all the cake was paid for?” Drew asked, regaining her attention.

“Yes,” Ariel nodded. “You paid for them, all of the cakes we had. I have your receipt, actually.”

“What about the van?” Adrian interjected.

Ariel blushed a little. “Well, you said you'd buy it, too.” She looked back at Drew. “But I wasn't sure how to charge you for it...Do you still want it?”

“Uh, no,” Drew shook his head. “That's okay, we don't, ah, need it anymore.”

“It's...” Ariel paused. “It's not _totaled_ is it?”

“No!” Drew and Adrian both said at the same time.

“It's fine, it's right out front,” Drew said, pointing.

“I need to get my giant awesome sunglasses out of it, but otherwise it's ready to go,” Adrian added, handing over the keys. He leaned closer to Drew. “You'll give me a ride, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” Drew nodded. “But before we go, miss, do you know why we wanted so much cake?”

Ariel glanced over at Joanne, who had buried her head in her hands. “She said that weddings need cake.”

Joanne groaned in horror.

“Thanks for your time,” Drew said politely, and turned to the door.

“We _have_ to go to the courthouse,” she said as soon as they were outside.

Adrian seemed to hedge. “What about Katie?” he asked. Predictably, he immediately had Drew's attention. “She should have her cell by now.”

Drew didn't even get a chance to ply her with a puppy-dog face. “Ok, we'll meet up with her first,” she sighed.

Katie arrived at the garage a few minutes before the others. She wasn't sure how much more strangeness she could handle, but when she saw the ostrich she almost collapsed.

“Apparently his name is Beep-beep,” Rudy called from the mouth of the garage, chuckling as she leaned heavily against the side of the car.

Katie laughed weakly. “Where did he _come_ from?”

“That red-head friend of yours,” Rudy said. “She seems really fond of him.”

Katie groaned. “Of _course_ she is.” She pushed off the car and started walking toward Rudy. “I don't suppose _she_ had any idea how she came by an ostrich?”

Rudy was still grinning, a little too amused. “Looked to me like she liberated him from the pink one. He doesn't seem to mind.” The ostrich warbled happily, as if he agreed.

“And the pink one had it because...?”

Rudy shrugged. “Because it's expensive and impressive?” he suggested. Katie leaned up against the doorway, and he patted her shoulder. “How are you doing?”

She grimaced. “I feel like a chewed up pincushion,” she mumbled. “I feel like my brain is a thousand percent done with my antics, and is trying to claw its way out of my skull.”

“Some bacon and hash browns, a few glasses of water, and you'll be just fine,” Rudy assured her. He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “Come on, hon. I can hear Drew's car, they'll be here in a minute.”

“How did you know they were coming?”

“I didn't,” he said, with a small shake of his head. “But I hear his car, so I just assumed.”

Drew pulled into the parking lot a few seconds later, which didn't surprise her. What did surprise her was how remarkably much better she felt as soon as she saw him.

“Katie!” Joanne trilled in a kind of whisper-scream. She skipped around the car and up to her, wrapping her up in a tight hug. “We were so worried!”

Drew was the second to reach her, and hugged her on her free side. She was absolutely shocked that Joanne didn't start hyperventilating and pass out.

“Katie!” Adrian bounded out of the car. Swear to god, that guy continually reminded her of Peter Pan. “Found out where the cakes came from!”

“I thought we knew?” Katie said, confused. “Wasn't it that variable cake place?” She wasn't sure exactly what to do with her hands, Joanne and Drew both seem determined to cuddle her.

“Variety, but more good news, we _didn't steal them!_ ” He threw his hands up in excitement. 

“Oh, good!” Katie sighed in relief. She hadn't even noticed that she was worried. “I know where your shirt came from, too, you stole it from my stepmother's church's costumes.”

Drew lifted his head. “We were at your stepmother's church?”

Joanne leaned back as well. “I think we should compare notes, now,” she said.

Katie would have given anything for a notebook, but after a little while they managed to piece together a time line.

“Ok, so we went from here to the church,” Drew started lifting a finger, “And from there to the crash-slash-cake place,” he continued, lifting another.

“Then the courthouse,” Joanne chimed in.

And after that, the girls when to campus,” Adrian added. “We must have started moving the cake while they were there,” he said, looking at Drew.

Drew looked pained. “But why did we split up the way we did?”

“And what happened to Isobel?” Katie asked. “She was there at the beginning of the night.”

“The last we know for sure was that she pulled a plastic-fruit Carrie at the thanksgiving play.” Adrian said, his eyebrows drawn together.

“What's a 'Carrie'?” Joanne asked him in an undertone.

“Destructive telekinetic craziness,” he answered. “Ok, but it definitely started in the garage?” Adrian looked at everyone for verification. Of course, whatever happened, had to have happened here. It was the last thing any of them remembered.

Katie sighed miserably. “It's all my fault,” she said. “My experiment must have malfunctioned somehow...”

“It's _Valerie's_ fault,” Drew said darkly. They all three looked at him quizzically. “When we saw her outside the cake shop, she asked me if I was trying to get back at her for the 'experiment stuff',” he explained, and looked back at Katie. “We never told her anything about your experiments.”

Katie frowned. “You think she sabotaged it?”

“But how did she find out?” Joanne asked.

“And how did she get in?” Adrian added.

Katie suddenly groaned. “Isobel.”

They all murmured in bitter comprehension. Katie shook her head. “I have to go check my lab,” she said, distressed. She turned and started to sprint toward the back of the garage, Joanne right on her heels.

Adrian grabbed Drew's arm before he could follow. “Hey, uh, quick question,” he said quietly, letting go to reach into his jacket. “Is 'Drew' short for 'Andrew'?” he asked.

Drew's eyes flashed. “Do not ever call me that.” 

Adrian leaned back ever so slightly. That was a _lot_ of hate for a name. “Understood,” he said, and handed him the marriage certificate. “But you should look at this.”

Drew raised an eyebrow, but took it and flipped it open. He scanned it quickly, and cursed with a grimace. “My father is going to kill me.”

A splitting headache, nausea, confusion…those things sucked pretty bad.

Waking up on cold concrete in a filthy, abandoned underground subway station…definitely worse.

But nothing… _nothing_ was as horrifying for Isobel to wake up to… as seeing Craig standing over her, fiddling with a video camera.

"Someone's in trouble," he muttered.

Isobel gulped.


	9. 109 - Is the honeymoon over?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang deal with the fallout from their wild night. Joanne has a new pet, Katie finally leaves Mildred's house, and Drew gets a visit from his very angry father.

** 109 – Is the honeymoon over? **

Joanne tilted her head. "Is it just me, or is it a bit sparkly in here?" she wondered.

Katie gasped. "Oh, _no_." She rushed forward toward her lamp, dropping to her knees, and yanked the top panel off. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Ok, good. It's fried."

Joanne gaped at her. "And that's _good_?"

"You want a repeat of last night?" Katie asked her, wryly.

"Oh." Joanne paused. "Ok, good point."

"Is it just me, or is it a bit shiny in here?" Drew asked, appearing in the doorway, Adrian right behind him.

"Sparkly," Joanne corrected him. "And what kept you?" She asked, looking back at them. Katie still found it a little weird that Joanne was suddenly making eye contact with Drew without wilting.

"Wow." Adrian stared around the room, open mouthed. "I love what you've done with the place."

Because nearly every surface of Katie's lab was covered in a patchy, thin silver gilt. Like someone had painted with a half-loaded roller. Katie ran her finger across a patch near her on the floor, and it crackled, coming up in flakes.

She glanced up at Drew. "Ok, you win this one. Definitely sabotage."

"Katie, your lamp!" Drew said when he caught sight of the mess right beside her. "What happened to it? Does it still work?"

Katie nudged the fried control panel with her foot. "No," she said. "Thank goodness."

Adrian raised both eyebrows incredulously. "How is that good?"

"No more blackouts," Joanne supplied for her.

"Ah." Both boys nodded in dawning realization. 

"It doesn't matter," Katie said sullenly. "I can make another just like it in a couple of days, but now we know about this giant design flaw…"

"Oh, what, that it's vulnerable to sabotage?" Drew asked dryly. "Katie it wasn't your fault, the lamp didn't do it, Valerie did."

"But that's the thing, Drew, she _didn't_." Katie started to stand, and Joanne stepped forward to help her up. "All she did was paint silver everywhere. What if someone bought this and put it in their silver-plated living room?"

Drew rolled his eyes. "Who in their right mind would cover their living room with sterling silver?"

Katie threw out her hands. "I don't know, who in their right mind uses fourteen karat gold as eye shadow? Rich people are _weird_!"

"Present company excluded, of course," Joanne said, grinning toward the boys.

"Seriously, Jo, I'm _not_ that rich," Adrian said, crossing his arms. "Strictly upper-middle class. And besides, I'm _very_ weird, thankyouverymuch."

Katie blinked. "She wasn't talking about Drew?"

Joanne frowned at her in confusion. "Drew's rich?" she asked, then she gasped. "Oh, that's right, Drew's _rich_!" She narrowed her eyes at him accusingly.

"I feel like I should be offended," Drew muttered.

"Oh, don't you even!" Joanne pouted, her hands on her hips. " _I'm_ offended. Your _bedroom_ is a big as my whole apartment!"

Katie jumped slightly, startled. "When did you see his _bedroom_?"

Joanne looked at her, her eyes wide and innocent. "That's where we woke up. I _told_ you that we woke up in bed together."

Katie sighed, shaking her head. "Sorry, I just assumed you woke up in _your_ bed."

"Oh, no," Joanne blanched. "That would have been _way_ too awkward. I have a twin bed, and I was, like, naked when we woke up."

"She was _not_ naked," Drew cut in, looking at Katie, slightly panicked. "She had clothes on, we _both_ had clothes on."

"Underwears aren't the same as clothes," Joanne insisted stubbornly.

"I had jeans on!"

"I can't believe you got to third base before I did," Adrian grumbled. "You're not even dating her!"

"See, this is what I'm talking about!" Katie said, gesturing wildly. "I almost released this thing onto an unsuspecting public!" She grabbed Drew by the shoulders. "Can you imagine what kind of horrors may have been unleashed?"

"Katie, calm down," Drew said, grabbing her hands and pulling her into a hug. "Everything's going to be fine. We'll clean up this mess, and then you'll figure out what happened and how to fix it." He ducked his head to try and meet her eyes. "Because you're a genius," he said, smiling reassuringly.

"Yes, okay, and also, what did you mean by 'Horror'?" Joanne asked. "Because if that was supposed to be about me in my underwears, I have a thing or two to say about that."

"And I have a thing or two to _ask_ about that," Adrian directed toward Drew, who rolled his eyes.

Katie sighed, ignoring the sudden slap fight that started between Joanne and Adrian. "Where do we even start?"

"Well, we should probably get this cleaned up." Drew said, glancing around at the silver-sploched room.

"Maybe figure something out about all that cake at your place?" Adrian suggested, his voice strained as he tried to speak through Joanne's stranglehold.

"We should see if we can find out what happened to Isobel," Joanne added from her perch on Adrian's back, pausing in her assault.

"Silver first," Drew said firmly, noticing Katie's building panic. He rubbed her back soothingly. "One thing at a time, we can worry about cake and Isobel later."

"What's the rule?"

Craig was tall, well muscled, and smothered in tattoos. His hair was bright green, and his eyes were dark and completely unreadable. He was intimidating to look at, for sure, but the scariest thing about him was his voice. It was a dark, rumbling sort of voice, inherently vicious. It didn't matter what he was saying; he could be reading his grocery list and still make small children and particularly wimpy adults wet themselves.

Of course, his grocery list probably consisted mainly of baby seals, lighter fluid, brimstone and cans of whoop-ass, so who wouldn't be terrified?

"What is the _one_ rule. The one, big, never-to-be-broken rule?" Of course, he wasn't yelling. In fact, Isobel had never heard Craig raise his voice much above normal, indoor volume. He never needed to. When he spoke, people shut up.

"Don't show off," Isobel said quietly.

"Don't. Show. Off," Craig repeated. He stood still in front of her, stoic, his arms crossed. "Don't make a scene. This is the _Underground_." He leaned infinitesimally closer. " _Not_ a circus."

It took her a considerable amount of restraint to keep from reciting the last line along with him. Products of the Underground of every rank said it so often it was practically their motto. But she worried she might sound like she was mocking him, and Craig was one person you didn't mock. Even by accident. So she kept her mouth shut.

Craig watched her silently for a few moments. Finally, he sighed. "Do you remember anything you did last night?"

Isobel almost felt like crying, she was so relieved. " _No_ ," she choked out. "How-"

Craig turned away, unmoved. "We train a far wider range of psychics than just _Kinetics_ ," he said the word with such distain, you'd never guess he was so well trained in both forms of kinesis. But in all actuality, no one knew for sure what field Craig originated in. Except maybe Mal, the founder of the Underground and the only person who outranked Craig. But it's not like he was telling anyone. Only a few products of the Underground had ever even met Mal. "We had a team on you five minutes after the first incident."

"Team?" Isobel asked, her voice small. 

"We have plans in place to deal with situations like this," he said. Isobel had a feeling that the 'situations' he was talking about generally referred to the natives, or newly initiated. She also had a feeling that she didn't want to know how they 'dealt' with them. "We had a seer and a kinetic trailing you, but we had to add a precog. The seer couldn't pin you down."

"One of _our_ seers couldn't pin me down?" Honestly, she was shocked. No one was better at what they did than the Underground. Except maybe the IPS faculty. But no one would ever be stupid enough to say _that_ on Underground turf.

Craig reached over, and despite her best efforts, she flinched as he ran a finger down her arm. When he pulled away he showed her his fingertip, which now glimmered with a thin layer of silvery dust. It took her a moment to recognize what it must be, but when she did, she gasped.

He nodded. "Now, I'm not sure how you managed to get yourself surrounded in a cloud of silver dust, and I'm not too concerned with finding out right now," he added, holding up a hand when she opened her mouth to try and explain. "What caused the episode, and how it affected you, isn't my concern. We'll hand that over to the brains, once this is all done with. My main concern is making sure the subsequent _mess_ -" His eyes landed on her with the tiniest amount of accusation, and her heart jumped into her throat. "Gets thoroughly _cleaned up_ ," he finished.

Isobel swallowed thickly. "Mess?" she whispered.

"We were able to handle the problems as they arose last night," he said. "For the most part, anyway. And once the precog joined, they were able to steer you to a more secure location. Unfortunately, the first incident went down at a children's play." He nodded toward the camera at her feet.

Again, it took her a second to make the connection. When she did, she was certain that nothing quite this bad had happened to her in her life.

"We've got people out collecting the cameras," he said, and turned away.

"I really appreciate all your help with this, Daryl," Mildred said, as she stepped out of her car and walked over to his.

"No problem, Millie," he answered her as he hopped out of his truck. "Happy to help. Out of curiosity, though, how did you come by so many cakes?"

Mildred grimaced at the enormous pile of cakes they had secured under a tarp in the bed of his truck. "My evil stepdaughter, if you can believe it."

"Oh, dear," Daryl muttered. "Not the devil worshipping psychic? You don't think she stole them, do you?" he asked in an undertone.

Mildred heaved a sigh. "It wouldn't surprise me," she said sadly. "At least some good may come of it, though, this way." She waved toward the homeless shelter they were parked behind.

Daryl started to unhook the tarp, shaking his head. "I don't know, Millie. I'm beginning to really worry about that girl, after everything you've told us about her."

"Don't even get me started!" Mildred groaned. "She spends all of her time out doing god-knows-what at that paganistic school of hers, or that _offensively_ inappropriate 'job'." She hooked her fingers in mocking air quotes. "She flat out refuses to share any meals with her family, she won't attend church with us, no matter _what_ I say or do, and she always has her nose in a book, _but that book is never the bible_!"

"You don't have to tell me," Daryl said with a chuckle. "I was there for the whole 'Brandon' debacle." He started folding up the tarp. "I'm still a little shocked, frankly. Wasn't the blind date _her_ idea? Why would she suddenly decide to drag those people along? It just doesn't make sense."

"Oh, nothing about that girl makes sense," Mildred muttered. She waved hello to the volunteer that appeared at the back door and choked at the sight of their mountain of cakes. "And now that you mention it, you know she's started dating strange boys now?"

Daryl's eyes widened. "Strange _boys_? As in, plural?"

"Well, it must be!" she said, thrusting her neck out in exasperation. "She's always out on dates! If it were all with the same person, she'd have brought him home to meet her family by now!"

"Ma'am?" A second volunteer raised his hand, trying to catch her attention. "Is all this supposed to be for us?" He pointed toward the cakes hesitantly.

"Yes, yes," Mildred said, waving dismissively. "Oh, hey, can _you_ think of a way I can get my witchy little stepdaughter to attend church?"

The volunteer wasn't paying attention, instead peering into the bed of the truck. "Is this _all_ cake?" he asked. "Lady, what are we supposed to do with all this cake? These people are already homeless, you want them to be diabetic, too?"

Of course, neither of them were listening. "Is church really the answer?" Daryl wondered. He held up a hand when she gaped at him with a scandalized expression. "If she doesn't want to go, won't trying to make her only make her rebel harder?" He yanked at his tricky tailgate, oblivious to the volunteers arguing behind them. "Besides, the most important thing is that she grows into a good person, right? Sure, it would be easier if she was open to coming to our church, but plenty of people turn out just fine-"

"That's debatable," Millie sniffed, interrupting. "And are any of these supposed 'people' attending a school for _psychics_?" she spat the word like a curse.

The tailgate unhooked with a creak, and Daryl grinned at his success, unaffected by her pessimism. "Millie," he said, chiding. "No one is past help. And you know as well as I do that not going to church doesn't necessarily make someone a bad person, no more than going to church makes you a good person. Lead by example. And be patient, she'll learn. Don't worry."

Mildred opened her mouth to protest, but the shelter volunteers were done being ignored. "Listen, I don't know what it is you think goes on in homeless shelters, but there is absolutely no way we could use a metric _buttload_ of cake, okay?"

Mildred put her hand to her chest in shock. "What are you talking about?" she shrilled. "Who doesn't love cake? Everyone loves cake! Especially starving homeless people! Just ask one, see for your-"

The second man (clearly the more outspoken of the two) interrupted her. "Sure they may like cake well enough," he said, raising his voice to be heard over her indignant squawk. "But no one in their right minds would think a hundred or so people could eat all of _this_!" He gestured toward the pile of cake.

"But I _have_ all this cake!" Mildred cried, flustered. "What am I supposed to do with it?"

"I don't know," he said. "Take it back to where you found it. Leave it on a street corner. Just don't leave it here!"

Mildred sucked in a loud, dramatic breath. Beside her, loitering uncertainly by the back end of his truck, Daryl braced himself with every ounce of patience he possessed. Lord knows Mildred meant well, but her penchant for drama could drive a _saint_ to distraction.

"All I wanted was to do a _good deed_!" she wheezed. "All I wanted was to take this burden inflicted on me, and turn it into a blessing for others. And this is what I get." She had her eyes covered as though she couldn't bear to look at them, but she gestured blindly in the direction of the volunteers. "Rudeness!" she continued in a squeak. "Crassness, offensive, crude people throwing my generosity back in my face!"

Daryl reached over to pat her shoulder soothingly. "I'm sure they didn't mean it like that…"

"If meaning it that way means you'll get these cakes out of our parking lot, then we sure as _hell_ meant it that way," the second guy said with a frown.

Mildred wailed. Daryl sighed.

"What's all this?" A third, older man appeared at the back door.

"Keith!" the first, and (statistically) less rude of the two greeted him. "We didn't mean to disturb- it's- well, look!" He waved at Mildred, draped limply against the bed of Daryl's truck, and the mountain of cake therein.

Keith whistled. "I'm not sure if I _want_ to know," he said with a grin. 

"Sir, I'm not even sure if I fully understand myself," Daryl said, stepping forward to shake his hand before Mildred could start yelling at him, too. "All I know is that my good friend Mildred has found herself inflicted with a huge assortment of cakes, and no idea what to do with them. We hoped you good people may be able to put them to good use?"

Keith eyed the cakes for a moment, and the other two volunteers eyed him apprehensively. "Yeah, I think we can help you out," he said with a small nod. The other two slumped in defeat, groaning. "Don't worry about them, they just don't want the extra work. What we can't eat or share, I'm sure we can sell," he assured them. "But I wouldn't say no to some help to get them all inside…?"

Mildred straightened, sniffing. (Her eyes were dryer than the sahara.) "It's nice to see someone here is reasonable," she said.

Of course, they would eventually regret asking her for her help. If there was one thing Mildred could do in any situation, it was _talk_.

"Lady, did it ever occur to you that maybe this girl won't eat with you because she just doesn't like your cooking?" They had learned that the ruder volunteer's name was Randall.

"The food I make is _healthy_!" Mildred said fiercely. "I'm not going to stoop to serving-serving fried…. _butter_ , and-and chocolate covered mozzarella sticks just because some rebellious teenager thinks she's above sharing dinner with her _family_!"

"But if she's _eight_ -teen, isn't she still a legal adult?" Charlie (the last volunteer) asked, confused.

"Same thing," Mildred mumbled, crossing her arms. "Teenagers are teenagers."

"And here's another question," Randall said, dumping his stack of cakes on the ever growing pile in the back office with very little ceremony. "Does she even _know_ you want her to have dinner with you? Was it part of the rules you gave her when she moved in? 'Change the toilet paper roll when it runs out, do your own laundry, and have dinner with us because I'm a rampaging stepford wife and don’t understand recent societal advances.'?"

Mildred stomped after him as he made his way back to the truck. "What exactly is a 'Stepford Wife'?" she asked. "Are you insulting me? _Again_?"

"Yes," he said, glancing back at her. "Yes I am."

"You know, Millie, he may have a point," Daryl said. He was standing in the bed of his truck, moving the last of the cakes so they were in easy reach for the others to carry. "Not about the Stepford Wife thing, but-"

"I don't even know what a Stepford Wife _is_!!" Mildred whined, her fists clenched in frustration.

"Millie, dear, my point is, maybe all you need to do is sit Katie down and talk about all this," he said. "Ask her to make dinners a priority. Maybe offer to let her cook sometimes, as a compromise?"

"You think I haven't tried?" Mildred complained. "There's no getting through to her! And dinner is just one of a long list of problems I'm having with her." She wrung her hands. "I have to figure out how to get her away from that school. It's the root of all these problems, I'm sure of it."

"Well, maybe if it were coming from someone else," Daryl suggest, shrugging. Randall rolled his eyes. "I could be there to help. Or maybe one of the ladies in your prayer circle, if you think a woman would be better."

Mildred froze, and her eyes slowly began to widen. "That's it!" she cried suddenly, clapping. "If I can't get her to church, I'll _bring_ the church to _her!_ "

"What?" Daryl asked, his voice flat.

"Something up?" Keith poked his head out the back door.

"No, don't you see? It's perfect!" she insisted. "I can get all the girls, and anyone else, and we'll all get together and just _ambush_ her! It'll be like a spiritual intervention!"

Daryl sighed. "Millie, that's not what I meant…"

Randall busied himself piling more cakes in his arms, but Daryl heard him mutter a few choice, (and offensive) words about Mildred's sanity.

"Excuse me?" The group turned toward the parking lot's exit to the street. Standing in the very center of the driveway was a young girl. Her long black hair was pulled up in high pigtails, and she was wearing a short, blindingly white dress, covered by a light grey cardigan. Both of which complimented her startlingly light, foggy grey eyes. She couldn't possibly be more than thirteen or fourteen, but somehow she seemed much, much older. She was so odd, in fact, it took them a moment to notice the much larger, intimidating man standing behind her and to the left.

"Oh, dear, I'm sorry!" Keith called, stepping closer. "We can't start taking people in until four pm, and lines aren't allowed before two." He waved toward Randall and the truck. "But if you'd like some cake, you're more than welcome."

The girl smiled politely. "That is very kind of you," she said quietly. "I'm grateful. But I'm neither homeless, nor in need of any cake. I had hoped, actually, that one of you may have a camera?" She tilted her head. "One that takes video? Perhaps left in one of your cars?"

Mildred found the girl extremely unsettling. Had she blinked once since drawing their attention? But as the others shook their heads, she couldn't help but answer the girl. "Well, I do," she said slowly. "I have it in my purse." She gestured toward her car. "But I can't sell it or any- hey, what are you doing?"

As soon as she indicated her car, the large man that had been lurking behind the girl started toward it briskly. The girl didn't so much as twitch, still frozen in place, watching them with wide, alarming eyes.

"You can't get in there!" Mildred called, looking agitated. "I've locked it-"

But the car door swung open with absolutely no resistance. Worse, Mildred was sure his hand hadn't reached the handle before the door started to open.

"What are you doing? Give that back!" Mildred rushed forward as the man lifted her purse from the seat and started rifling through it.

"You should listen to her, son," Daryl said, and hopped down from his truck. "You're outnumbered, you know." He ignored Randall's snort.

"Perhaps," the girl said sweetly, still not having moved even a millimeter. "But you're grossly outmatched." 

"Give that _back_!" Mildred shrieked, trying to grab the man by the arm holding her purse. But even though she was sure she could feel something against her hands, there was at least an inch of open air between them and his arm. She had only a moment to stare in horror before she felt herself lifted off her feet and thrown backward.

"We have no quarrel with you," the young girl called as Mildred landed on her backside four feet from where she had been standing. The longer she stood there, still and serene, her hands clasped loosely in front of her, the creepier she got. "We're here to acquire a specific item, and once we have, we'll be on our way." Her voice was pleasant and calm, and she stared straight at Daryl, as though she were looking through him.

"Shira," the thug called, speaking for the first time. He lifted Mildred's camera from her purse. "This it?"

The girl, Shira, turned her gaze from Daryl, facing her partner. Her eyes flashed unnaturally as they came to rest on the camera he was holding, (surely, Daryl thought, it was a trick of the light?) and for the first time since addressing Keith, her expression shifted. She nodded as a small smile ghosted across her face. "Yes," she said. "Leave the rest where you found it, and lets go."

The thug tossed Mildred's purse back into her car and shut the door.

"Now just you hold on a minute," Daryl said, stepping between the two strangers. "That doesn't belong to you-"

"Save your breath, sir," Shira said, sounding mildly amused. "You can't stop us. And I suggest you get out of his way," she added in an afterthought.

Not soon enough, however. As soon as the man stepped within a foot of him, where he was still blocking the path, Daryl was the second to feel some unseen force lift him into the air and toss him aside, like some sort of rag doll.

"You could have just gone around," Shira said, in a tone more of boredom than concern. Her partner shrugged. "Hm." She shrugged back, indifferent. "Thank you for your help," she said to the others with another polite smile. "If not your cooperation."

And with that they turned and left.

"Huh," Randall grunted when they had disappeared around the corner. "That was weird."

" _Weird_?!" Mildred was openly weeping. For real this time, tears were plainly visible streaming down her face. "I was just _mugged_! And the word you come up with is _weird_?! How about _terrifying_?"

"To be fair," Keith said, "All he took was your camera. By his size, he could have taken much more." He raised his eyebrows significantly. "You should count yourself lucky."

"Lucky?" Mildred cried hysterically. "He _threw_ me clear across the parking lot!"

"He threw you three feet," Randall scoffed. And apparently directly into a puddle - the seat of Mildred's pants were soaked through, and caked with mud.

"Is anyone _else_ concerned about the fact that he didn't touch either of us before we went flying?" Daryl, usually so collected and reasonable, was visibly freaked as he struggled to his feet.

"Well, he's obviously one of the _freaks_ from Katie's school!" Mildred sobbed. "I wouldn't be surprised if _she_ sent them!"

"Oh, now," Charlie spoke up. "That's kind of a big assumption to make." Admittedly, he understood very little of what was going on. He'd been arranging cakes in the back office and had missed most of Mildred's griping, as well as the first half of the confrontation with ghost girl and her mute sidekick. Still, it was a pretty serious accusation. 

"Do you see?" Mildred asked, advancing on Daryl and paying absolutely no attention to Charlie. "You see why I'm trying _so hard_ to get her away from that awful school? They're corrupting her! There is no way I can help her as long as she is at that school, with those blasphemers breaking the laws of nature and throwing it in the face of god-fearing _normal_ people who are powerless to stop them!" She dissolved into tears.

"Maybe you're right," Daryl muttered, still visibly rattled. He reached over, and she collapsed into his arms. "If this is the sort of thing that school is encouraging…well, maybe an intervention isn't such a bad idea."

Mildred sniffed and straightened, smiling in triumph.

It had been so quiet, that when Craig's phone chimed Isobel jumped so hard she nearly made it to a standing position. The action made her head throb painfully. If she survived the next hour, it might be worth pressing her luck to ask to visit one of their healers.

"You pinpointed number eight?" Isobel couldn't make out what the other person was saying, but the voice sounded familiar. She wasn't sure, but she would guess that it was a seer named Shira. She barely knew her, except that she was known as a prodigy. And also as extremely creepy. Craig sighed. "What did he do?"

The girl on the other end of the line said a few words, seeming entirely disinterested. He sighed again. "Bring it in, I'll deal with him later." He hung up and put his phone away, grumbling. "Kinetics…"

Isobel tensed when he turned back to her, but he held out a hand to help her up. "Good news. They've collected the last of the physical evidence of your antics last night," he said as he yanked her to her feet. She stifled the pained yelp that threatened to escape as she was rushed to her feet. "I have a completely different mess to clean up now. But right now I need to get you to the brains."

Isobel paled. She had hoped he was joking about that. She had met them only once before, and within two minutes of being introduced, she would have been happy to never see them again.

The 'Brains' in the Underground were like research and development team. They studied psychic energy, what effect it has on people and things, and why. They were hand-picked by Mal himself, and were the most feared and respected people in the Underground. Even Craig, though technically in charge, had never challenged any of their decisions. There were only three right now; the twins - Holly and Molly - who Isobel had heard a couple of products call the 'Doublemint twins' (though never to their face), since they were attractive, blonde, and chipper, and Colin, who was a textbook poindexter. He fit all the stereotypes for the grossest kind of nerd, (thick glasses, acne, pasty skin, etc.) as well as a few bonus traits to help make him extra creepy. Like his habit of looking everyone over appraisingly, as though he were picturing how he would dissect them. Just one more sprinkle on top of a creepy, greasy, gropey sundae that she'd rather run over with her car than visit face to face.

She was brought back to reality by the high pitched squeal of a train car's brakes. All of their facilities were literally underground, connected to the subway line. The subway's electricity had been cut decades ago, but most everyone in the Underground(except the newest natives, but they were escorted everywhere anyway) knew enough about Telekinesis to run the cars on psychic energy. Not like it was really that hard, of course, it's not like they were pushing the forty-ton subway car with telekinesis alone. All you had to do was get the mechanism going, and the car did most of the work.

Not that the former was such a silly mistake to make. It was really the first thing _anyone_ would assume if someone told them to try and move the car telekinetically, and letting Isobel strain for a full twenty minutes before explaining _wasn't funny_. It was rude.

And if the brakes hadn't been on, she probably would have been able to move it anyway, and _then who would be laughing_??

"Come on, native," Craig said, stepping into the car. The entire facing side had been cut out, and most of the seats were gone. Isobel had originally assumed it was to make the car lighter for the telekinesis, but that idea only lasted about twenty minutes. She still had yet to get a straight answer about the remodeling. "Let's get this done. I have things to do today."

"I'm so glad we're done with that silver," Joanne groaned, drooping against Adrian in the backseat of Drew's car. "It was making me seriously dizzy."

Katie twisted in her seat. "You were acting pretty loopy, too. I thought you were about to have another blackout…"

"Well, I thought you'd _both_ lost your minds," Drew said. "Especially when you started trying to _cut open_ a car battery!" He glanced over at Katie, who pouted.

"Well why is it called a 'lead-acid battery', if there's no lead in it?" she muttered irritably.

"Because there _is_ lead in it!" he said with a small laugh. "Just none you could _use_. Besides, it was sterling silver, not plutonium, the metal box we were using was working just fine."

"Not according to Joanne," Katie pointed out.

Joanne leaned forward. "It was glowing purple, I _swear_ it was…"

Drew made a choked sound as he tried not to laugh. "Maybe we should get something to eat…" he suggested, ignoring Katie's glare.

"Ooh, we can have one of the cakes," Adrian said. "They looked really good, and it's not like we lack a variety."

Katie twisted back around to shake her head at him. "No, we need to return them. I can't let Drew waste that kind of money over a mistake _I_ made."

"Valerie's mistake," Drew said immediately, and paused to let Adrian finish whining in disappointment. "I doubt it cost that much. I actually thought we might donate them to that homeless shelter that you said needed a turkey?"

"Even a homeless shelter couldn't use that much cake," Katie said easily. "That would be, like, four cakes to a person. And I don't care how much or little it cost, you don't need to be wasting your money for such a stupid reason, _particularly_ when it's my fault in the first place."

"Valerie's fault," Drew responded automatically - he'd been correcting her all day - but he sounded distracted. Katie felt the car slow down, and turned to see Drew staring out the windshield in confusion. "The holiday isn't until tomorrow, right?" he asked her.

Katie followed his gaze to see at least half a dozen cars parked at her house. "Oh, no…" she groaned.

Joanne peered around them, and grimaced. "You think Mildred is having a party?" she suggested hopefully. "Like a cake party? Or they're here helping her move the cakes?"

"Maybe…" Katie agreed uncertainly. "But that's not any good, either. They aren't her cakes, Drew needs to get his money back," she said, distressed, as Drew pulled up and parked at the curb behind a line of three cars.

"Seriously, Katie, stop worrying about the money," Drew said. "It doesn't matter. But let's still check it out, there may be more clues about what happened last night," he continued, reaching for the door.

"Actually, maybe I should take care of this one on my own," Katie said, stopping him. Drew let go of the handle, but eyed her suspiciously.

"Katie, I'm not leaving you to face that psycho alone," Joanne chimed in, sounding far more lucid than she had a few minutes ago.

"It's probably nothing," Katie insisted. "I'll be fine. It's probably just a church group meeting to exchange Thanksgiving recipes and pray and junk."

"You're a terrible liar, Katie," Drew reminded her dryly.

"It'll be fine," Katie repeated, her voice high-pitched and completely unconvincing. She opened the door to the car and stepped out. "You guys see if you can track down Isobel, okay?"

"How about _no_?" Joanne said immediately, going for her own door. Katie blocked her exit, and she started to growl. "I'm not letting you go in there alone!"

"I've been going in there alone for months now!" Katie said, struggling to get Joanne back into the car. "What's so different about this time?"

"Well, for one thing, you crashed her church play last night. Also all that cake, and then there was me in bed with you, and making voodoo predictions on the way out…" Adrian ticked off each thing on a finger as he spoke.

Joanne cheered in agreement, and Katie started to try and argue. "Ok, look," Drew said, stepping out of the car. "How about we give you five minutes?" he asked. The others quieted down, and Katie frowned. "If everything really is fine, just come back out and tell us, and we'll go see if we can find anything out about Isobel. Fair?"

Katie still seemed dubious, but she nodded. "Alright," she said, flashing a tight, pathetic attempt at a smile. "I'll be right back."

Drew leaned against the side of his car and watched Katie make her way across the yard to the house. "I'm not waiting five minutes for her to come out and lie to us," Joanne said hotly.

"Neither am I," he answered.

Just step inside, wait a couple of minutes, then go back. That was the plan. Really, it was a simple plan.

" _There_ you are," Mildred crowed. She hadn't even gotten all the way through the door. Mildred swooped in and grabbed her hand in an iron grip, pulling her toward the living room.

She glanced around as she was rushed forward. Not a cake in sight. She cursed silently to herself.

She could have just _kept driving_. Gone on the lam…started living in a cave…how hard could it be, really? She had been in girl scouts - briefly - she knew how to…well, sell cookies, but also knots. If something needed knotting, she was _on it_.

"Good lord, is that poor girl wearing the same clothes as she had on last night?" They'd made it to the living room. It was hard for Katie to get an idea of how many people were there at first, all the pastels and floral prints kind of blended together, but the hair was all big enough that she was eventually able to get a good headcount. 

Sixteen people were there. And they were all looking right at her.

"Yes, she most certainly is," Mildred said, lifting her nose. "And what's more, this morning she had a _boy_ in her bed!" The collective, horrified gasp was perfectly timed. Katie felt like she was on the set of a vintage made-for-tv movie. "You see, she's gotten completely out of hand. This is why I reached out to everyone!"

"Actually, he was fully clothed," Katie tried to cut in. "And I can explain that, too-"

One of the women stepped closer and patted her arm. "There's no need to explain, dear," She said kindly. "A lot of people your age end up victims of substance abuse, but we're all here to help you."

Substance abuse? Katie frowned and furrowed her eyebrows. "I wasn't on _drugs_!" she cried indignantly.

"Alcohol is also a substance," a man pointed out from the back of the room, a bit more condescendingly than the first woman.

Katie huffed. "I wasn't _drunk_ either, okay? Look-"

"Katie?" She heard Drew's voice from behind her, and almost groaned in frustration. How could she get the situation under control when people kept interrupting her? "What's going on?" he asked conversationally, inspecting the group of people piled in the living room.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Mildred sneered at Drew.

"The door was open," Joanne chirped as she came up behind Drew, Adrian trailing close behind her. "If this was a private party, you probably shouldn't have left it hanging open."

Katie put her hand to her head. "You said five minutes," she said. Her head was starting to throb again.

Joanne crossed her arms. "I didn’t say _diddly_ ," she said stubbornly.

Adrian spun in a complete circle. "Did you guys eat all that cake?" he asked.

Mildred stared at him. "You think we ate three hundred cakes?"

Adrian glanced between her and the others gathered in the living room. "Um…" He blinked. "…maybe?"

Joanne snorted.

"So," Drew spoke up. Katie turned away from Mildred's rapidly reddening face. "What all this about?"

She sighed. "They think we're doing drugs or something."

"Why?" Drew asked, shocked. "Not because of last night?"

One of the women sitting in the living room scoffed. "You interrupted a children's play to host a ridiculous _mockery_ of a wedding, and then you _blew up a turkey_."

"Ok, that wasn’t us though. That was Isobel," Adrian said innocently, but his eyes were narrowed. They were all still pretty mixed up from the silver, but you didn't have to be an empath to notice the aura of fear in the room. Or the righteous indignation that surged at his words, practically screaming 'It doesn't matter, you're all the same!'

"It was all an accident," Drew started trying to explain. "Katie was working on a-...a project. For school," he said, and the group started to murmur, glancing around at each other knowingly. "But my ex-girlfriend sabotaged it."

"See, there's this reaction that happens with psychic energy comes in contact with silver-" Katie picked up were Drew left off, much more enthusiastic about the explanation than he was. She was always that way about sharing knowledge.

Unfortunately, no one was listening. "You see what I mean?" Mildred was saying, holding the room's complete attention. "It all comes back to that school."

"Woah, hey, wait," Katie held up a hand, frowning. "What do you mean 'that school'? What's wrong with my school?"

"Oh, dear, what _isn't_ wrong with that school?" One of the snottier guests asked. She sniffed. "Defying gods law…"

"The laws of _nature_ ," a different man corrected.

"It's practically witchcraft," One woman muttered. Unlike the other two, she didn’t sound obnoxious, just scared.

"They get control of these unholy powers," Mildred began again, drowning the others out. "They think that can do whatever they want, because how are we supposed to _stop_ them?" She turned to face Katie, who was openly gaping at her. Her expression was one of concern, but at the same time she seemed almost smug. "It's those kinds of thoughts that make criminals. I want better than that for you." She reached out to take Katie's hand, but she backed up rapidly, knocking into Drew and almost toppling over.

"Wait, wait," Katie muttered as Drew helped steady her. "Is that why you're all here? To try and get me to _quit school_?" She half laughed when she said it, the idea was so absurd.

"We're here to support you," One of the guests said. "You and your stepmother, both."

"We just want to help guide you on the right path," A man near her added.

"We can help you if you let us."

"We can _save_ you, if you let us."

Katie gripped Drew's hand, her eyes round. "Is this the establishing scene in a horror movie? Be honest."

"Well, you _did_ try and come in here alone," Joanne reminded her dryly. Katie made a face at her.

"Maybe they mean well?" Drew suggested. He didn't seem very convinced.

"Maybe," Adrian shrugged. "I can't be sure about their intentions. But I can tell you that right now, they're speaking out of fear, not love or concern."

"See, this is what I'm talking about!" Mildred cried, pointing at Adrian. "You're dealing with forces you cannot understand!"

"Well that's what the _school_ is for!" Katie surged forward, but now Drew was holding on to her. "So we can _learn_!"

"It isn't _for_ you to understand!" Mildred stepped forward, but Drew backed away, pulling Katie with him. Joanne moved closer, watching her warily. "It's only for _God_ to understand!" Mildred continued, staring at Joanne as she got between her and Katie. "You are not gods!"

"I never said we were!" Katie's throat was so tight she barely got it out, and no one seemed to hear. Drew did, though, and wrapped his arms around her.

"As your stepmother, it's my responsibility to make sure you do the _right_ thing," Mildred said passionately. "You may not like it, you may hate me, but in the end I know you'll appreciate that _someone_ was looking out for your best interests." She let out a tiny sob at the last word, and one of the men stepped forward to hug her shoulders. "So as long as you're living under my roof, I am going to make sure you do the _right_ things with your life," She continued resolutely. "I tried to be understanding, I tried to be subtle, I _tried_ to lead by example, and it didn't work! But now, until the day you get yourself a suitable husband, so help me, I will _keep_ you on the straight and narrow! If it _kills_ me I will! And the first step will be making sure you never set foot in that school again!"

"Wait, if all she needs is to get married-" Adrian started, and cut off in a yelp when Drew stomped on his foot.

"I hate to break this to you, Ma'am," Drew said, his voice dropped to a quiet, but commanding tone. "But Katie is a fully grown adult. You really have no say in how she lives her life."

Mildred's nostrils flared, and her face started to flush again. There was no smugness in her voice when she responded. "This is still _my house_ ," she bit out. "And as long as she lives under _my-_ "

"Then she doesn't live under your roof anymore," Drew said fiercely. "Katie, go grab your things." He said, letting her go gently. Katie hesitated, looking back at him with a worried expression. 

"She can't just leave!" Mildred snorted humorlessly. "She has nowhere else to go. And she can't live on her own!" The concept seemed to horrify her. "A young girl living on her own? She needs someone to watch over her! You can't expect her to manage all alone!"

"That's why we need husbands," one of the friendlier ladies said helpfully. "They protect us, and balance us. They keep our priorities in order."

"I think I can actually hear feminism weeping right now," Joanne mumbled.

"Don't you worry," Drew said, smiling coldly. "She won't be on her own. She'll be living with me."

There may be a time when Katie got tired of Mildred's melodramatic, hysterical gasps. But today was not that day.

Katie stared up at the colossal building that was apparently Drew's apartment. "I'm really not sure about this."

"Katie, I told you, I have a spare bedroom," Drew said, slinging Katie's bag over his shoulder. "I'm not trying to rush you into anything. But that woman was freaking crazy."

"Still, though…" Katie picked at her shirt nervously. "We're dating. And we haven't been dating that long. It could get weird," she said as he passed her, heading for the door.

"Katie, I'm not expecting anything out of you, okay?" He paused, reaching back to take her hand. "You don't have to pay rent, or cook, or clean. Well, unless you want to. You'll have your own bedroom and your own bathroom." He squeezed her hand. "I know you, Katie. I can't imagine that you'd be that hard to live with. And I sincerely hope I'm easier to live with than that shriveled up old cow."

Katie flushed deeply, (though thankfully not as badly as earlier, when Mildred had been shrieking at her about 'living in sin') "That's not what I meant. I'm sure you're just fine to…to, uh, live with."

Drew chuckled and led her forward. "And if for some reason you can't stand living with me, you can always move in with Joanne," he reasoned.

"She doesn't have room," Katie muttered. But she followed him into the building without complaint. "She says she does, but she doesn't."

"Maybe not," Drew shrugged. They both stepped through the front door into the small communal area that connected with the first story apartment. "That's probably why I managed to get the jump on her in offering you a place to stay." He grinned back at her before starting up the stairs. "But it's not just us, you know. There are other people around here that care about you. Adrian would probably help. Rudy definitely would. I wouldn't be surprised if some of your teachers would even be willing to help you out."

"I can't just ask for handouts from everyone I know-" Katie fretted, unconsciously slowing her ascent on the stairs.

"Which is probably why everyone you know would be so willing to give you one," Drew said with a laugh. He glanced back and tugged, urging her forward. "Look, hopefully it'll be a moot point. I just want you to know that you have lots of things you can do. You're not stuck choosing between a psychotic dogma wielding hag, your best friend's couch, or a boyfriend you're not ready to live with yet." He stopped in front of his door and let go of her hand to dig for his keys. "Although I do flatter myself that I'm the more pleasant option among the three, but that's probably just my ego."

"Well, I'll have to live with you a while to know for sure," she said, completely serious, as she followed him through the door. She got exactly three feet before freezing in her tracks.

"Ok," she muttered. "You win."

When Drew had said 'apartment', she had pictured something like Joanne's place. Small, yes, but comfortable enough for two people. It was almost alarming for her to realize that her friend hadn't been exaggerating about the scale of Drew's home. _At all._ She didn't even know apartments _came_ this big. Drew's apartment was at least as big as Mildred's house.

"Come on," he laughed, drawing her forward with a hand on her back. "Kitchen, dining room, living room," he started pointing out as they passed through the apartment.

"Is that a television, or a cleverly painted _wall_?" she choked out, turning to look as they passed by the living room.

"Technically, it's an 'entertainment center'," Drew answered with a smirk. "Come on, your room is this way."

"Did you _buy_ all of this?" she squeaked, still twisting and craning to look around as he dragged her along. "Or is this for, like, your whole family?" Because honestly, when would he ever have use for two full sized couches, plus a love seat, _plus_ an armchair? Or a dining room table that seats eight? 

"Actually, this was all a gift from my aunt," he said. "Sort of a 'congratulations on getting the hell away from your father' present." He stopped in front of a couple of doors and smiled back at her. "She and my dad had a falling out a while back, so she was always supportive on my rebellion."

"So your aunt bought all this furniture and stuff?" She made another quick twirl. "Is there a reason she thought you needed so… _much_?"

"Oh, no, I mean _everything_." Drew held out his arms. "The apartment, too. I don't think she picked the furnishings, though. She just got an interior decorator and let them loose. Here," he turned back toward the doors. "This one is the guest bathroom, and the other one is your bedroom."

Katie was too shocked to say much after that, but just followed him as he guided her through a frankly overwhelmingly opulent bedroom, and it's attached bath suite. She thought she had already had a good idea of Drew's wealth, but she was completely unprepared for this. She was starting to understand why he would compare his father to god, and she told him so.

He leaned against the bathroom vanity, looking a little sheepish. "I've gotten kind of used to the idea that most people would only be interested in me for my money," he admitted.

Katie raised an eyebrow. "Drew, there are three mirrors in here. Turn around and try and tell me that even the most shallow person on the planet would be interested _only_ in your money."

Drew, surprisingly, blushed. "Yeah, but, I guess it never occurred to me that my money might scare someone away."

Katie's mouth formed an 'o'. She really wasn't used to Drew being serious, much less vulnerable. "I'm not scared," she said firmly, despite a matching blush. "I just want to be careful. This is your money, not mine. I don't want to get used to things, or start expecting things that don't really belong to me."

She had barely gotten the words out before Drew had her in his arms, and was kissing her breathless.

"You're gonna know more about that system than I do by tonight," Drew snorted. He set a basket of muffins on the coffee table in front of Katie, who was reading the manual for his entertainment center. "You know I only kept that thing in case I ever had trouble sleeping?"

Katie giggled. "Understanding dry, dusty, boring junk is like my superpower," she snorted. "What's this?" she asked when she saw the basket of muffins.

"You said poppy seeds would help with these hangovers, right?" He lifted one of the muffins. "I didn't seem to have any with the spices, but there are at least three lemon-poppy seed muffins in here. Will those work?"

Katie took the muffin and examined it. "I think so, but it would only work with something high in vitamin C, and cranberries. Or Blueberries."

"I have blueberries," he said. "I think I have orange juice, that's high in vitamin C, right?"

Katie nodded distractedly, digging through the muffins to separate out the ones with poppy seeds. "Orange juice should work just fine. Kiwis would be best, though, if you have them."

"Sorry, no." He seemed amused as well as confused as he turned to head back to the kitchen. "Are kiwis higher in vitamin C than oranges?"

"There are a lot of things higher in vitamin C than oranges, actually," Katie said, that same edge of excitement creeping into her voice that always appeared when she was explaining something she found interesting. "Peppers, like bell peppers, are the highest, but I figured kiwis might taste better with the blueberries. You know, bananas aren’t the highest in potassium, either?" she raised her voice as he got further away. "Oh, hey, do you have a blender? The blueberries will work better if they get blended with the orange juice."

Drew grimaced. "I do, though I'm not looking forward to the noise." He sighed. "You know, I've never heard of all this as a hangover cure."

"Well, what we're experiencing isn't technically a hangover," she said. "Hangovers are caused by alcohol poisoning, it's mostly dehydration that causes all the pain. What we're feeling right now is a reaction to our psychic energy's reaction to the silver." She paused when the blender started, wincing.

"Ok, I actually think I followed all that," Drew said when the blender finished. "But how do you know this'll help?"

"Well, I don't know for sure. But I read this study about the transitive effects that vitamin C has on psychic energy, which makes it function as a good catalyst. Couple that with the poppy seeds, which have trace amounts of morphine and codeine, and the blueberries-"

"Ok, now you've lost me," Drew said, emerging from the kitchen with two glasses of oddly purple colored liquid.

Katie smiled, and took a glass. "I read stuff about stuff, and I calculated some stuff, and I'm fairly confident that eating this stuff with fix the stuff that's stuffing with our heads," she explained.

Drew laughed. "Fair enough," he said, taking a tentative sip of the juice. He raised his eyebrows. "That's actually not that bad."

"Will we have enough for Joanne and Adrian?" Katie asked, taking a sip of her own.

"Oh, I'm sure. There's still some in the blender," he said. "I hope so, anyway. How much will we need to drink?"

"Not sure. But don’t forget the muffin." She handed him one, and grabbed another for herself. "What are they doing, anyway?"

"They were gonna go get the rest of your stuff," he said. "Joanne figured she'd know what was yours. Adrian was saying something about battle gear when I dropped them off at his car, though."

"I forget, why didn't we take separate cars to begin with?"

"Uh, the silver from the lab," he said, distracted by the sound of the doorbell. "It made both of them too dizzy to drive. That must be them, now."

Katie took another sip of her juice as Drew stood to get the door. Really, it was remarkable how much better she felt already. It was nice to see at least _one_ of her theories seemed to work. She was just about to get up to get their friends each a glass, when Drew's loud bark of laughter made her jump.

She didn't have to wait long to see what was so funny. Adrian strutted into the room a moment later with her comforter gathered up and slung over his should like a sack.

"Oh, no…" Katie huffed, struggling to keep a straight face. She looked past him at Joanne, who was holding a stack of books and trying not to laugh. "Tell me that's not shoe polish on his face."

Joanne shook her head. "Costume makeup," she giggled helplessly.

"I don't know what you all find so funny," Adrian said loftily.

Katie snorted. "Santa, you've _changed_ ," she said, eyeing the comforter he was still holding like a sack.

Adrian grinned at her. "The camo makes it harder for the kids to see me," he explained quite seriously.

"You're practically invisible," Katie agreed, holding her composure for a precious moment before dissolving into laughter. She and Joanne were both practically rolling on the floor.

"Adrian, _where_ did you get all of the military clothes?" Drew asked, still catching his breath from his own laughter.

"He has a cousin in the army," Joanne explained. She looked over at Katie, tears in her eyes. "You should have seen him at your house!" she said, her voice dropping to a squeal before she could finish talking.

"It was an epic battle between good and evil!" Adrian dumped the comforter and whatever was wrapped up in it on the floor by the couch, suddenly very excited.

"None of the church people would let him within three feet of them," Joanne explained quietly.

"I valiantly defended our acquisition team-" Joanne raised her hand and then pointed to herself, indicating she was who he was talking about. "As they valiantly retrieved the spoils of war to be bestowed upon the truly valiant!"

Katie was shaking so hard with laughter she almost didn't hear Joanne's aside. "He recited, like, five minutes of Winston Churchill's 'Fight on the Beach' speech," she said quietly, her voice breaking as she fought laughter. "Complete with accent. I don't think they even noticed me hauling your stuff outside to begin with."

"When my mettle was tested, I rose to the occasion, fearing no loss of life or limb!" Adrian started to pace with his chin high and chest puffed out. Drew looked like he might choke.

"One of the guys tried to ask what we were doing, and he threw a bread roll like a grenade and then literally tackled me to the floor." Joanne rubbed her shoulder. "I'll be feeling that tomorrow."

"And I stood guard steadfastly-! As the white flag was waved and an emissary came forward with plans for a truce!"

Joanne grimaced. "Oh, yeah." She looked at Katie. "Adam wanted me to tell you that he's sorry about what happened, Mildred only did was she did out of concern for your well-being, and she's agreed to a compromise." She wrinkled her nose. "You can come back and keep going to school, so long as you agree to attend church with them on Sundays." 

Katie raised an eyebrow at her dubiously. "Uh…" She glanced once around the room. "Yeah, I don't think that's gonna happen."

Even Adrian broke character to laugh at that. Drew grinned and stood from where he'd been leaning against the couch. "Is there more to be brought in?" he asked, making for the door.

"Oh, I'll help!" Katie said, jumping to her feet.

"Hey, Drew, why did you paint one of your entire walls black?" Joanne called after them. "Isn't that a bit goth for you?"

Her first night at Drew's wasn't necessarily the best night's sleep Katie had ever had, but it was sure as hell better than any she'd had at Adam and Mildred's.

It still smelled wrong, and the pillows were too soft, but once she'd replaced the bedding with some of her own, she slept easily. She was actually quite comfortable, and wasn't really ready to wake up when she did.

The first thing she noticed, (other than a split-second of panic when she forgot where she was,) was the light. For weeks now she had been waking up at ungodly hours, always before sunrise. She wasn't sure, but it seemed like the sun had been up for a while.

The second thing she noticed, as she stretched contentedly, was the fighting.

"Of all the idiotic things you've ever done-" an unfamiliar voice sounded from the other room. Katie froze mid-stretch, anxiety, familiar and uncomfortable, clenching in her stomach.

"What are you doing here?" This voice she recognized. Drew sounded angry, though she could barely hear him.

"I'm here because your mother and I have been here for two days without even a call from you." The stranger, apparently Drew's father, was clearly audible. "I'm here because Valerie called me yesterday afternoon, completely beside herself after how you treated her! But most of all, I'm here because of _this_!" Katie heard paper rustle.

"Could you please keep your voice down?" Drew voice raised minutely.

"Why?" His father's voice raised considerably. "Aren't we the only ones here?" Katie jumped when she heard a door crash open, but it wasn't hers. "Well, thank god you're not _that_ stupid."

Drew's voice raised even further, and Katie could hear him clearly. "Get out of this apartment, right now." It occurred to her that she had never seen Drew angry. Right at this moment, he sounded legitimately dangerous.

"I'm not going anywhere until we've cleaned up this mess you've made." His father didn't sound dangerous so much as commanding, but he was considerably louder. "I don't know who this 'Katherine' is, or what possessed you to _marry_ her-"

Katie sat bolt upright. Marry?? But that was a _joke_ , no way was it _legal._

She gasped. The court house. Of _course_ , Joanne had thought that it was her who had gotten married, but…

"I have to assume it was to upset me."

"Of course you would think this was about _you_ ," Drew sneered."It doesn't matter why I married her, and, more importantly, it's _none of your business_."

"Well, you're right about one thing," his father answered pompously. "Now you have two options. An annulment, thankfully, is still a possibility. It's quick and painless, and we can put this whole fiasco behind us. Failing that, of course, I've had this written up." There was more rustling of paper.

"A post-nuptial agreement? Really? How about I go with option number three, and invite you to go-" Katie winced at his language as she slid out of bed. She was still reeling from the marriage thing, and their yelling wasn't helping her deal with it.

"This isn't a joke, Drew!" There was a loud smack as paper hit a hard surface. "This isn't like when you crashed a dirt bike in the neighbor's fountain, or dumped a bunch of rats into the middle of Audrey's cotillion. Marriage is serious business, and this decision - a decision you made without consulting _any_ of your family, I may add - will affect all of us! You understand, it doesn't just hurt me, it hurts _everyone_."

"Oh, would you get your head out of your ass?" Drew wasn't trying to keep his voice down anymore, he seemed to have lost his temper. " _This isn't about you_. And we're not _hurting_ anyone! What happened wasn't planned, but how we deal with it is between me and Katie, and however we choose to handle it is _none of your business_."

"It is all of our business!" Katie flinched as his voice rose even higher. She was standing by her door, but she could probably have heard him clearly even a block away. "You are my heir, which means this contract you've entered into with this woman will eventually give her access to every asset this family holds! And I will be _damned_ if I let some nameless trollop from the middle of _nowhere_ , whom you married out of some childish vendetta to _spite_ me, destroy everything I have spent my life building!" Katie bit her lip hard to fend off compulsive tears. She felt like she'd been punched in the stomach, she had to remind herself that this man knew absolutely nothing about her. "Now you will dissolve it, or you will secure it, but so help me Drew, if you do not handle this situation I will _cut you off_."

"Of _what_?" Drew cried. "In case it's escaped your notice, _you_ haven't been paying my bills for over two years now!"

" _The family if I have to_!" his father practically roared. "I will keep our future secured, and if it means I have to disown my own son, _so be it._ "

"Oh, _honestly_." Katie finally emerged from her room, sighing impatiently. Drew turned to her and his expression melted from rage to horror almost instantly. His father, however, just seemed mildly confused. He stood about a foot away from Drew, almost his exact same height, with salt and pepper hair, grey eyes, and a healthy tan. Wearing, of all things, a three piece suit. Oddly formal for nine in the morning.

"Zip up your pants and put away the rulers," Katie grumbled, stomping over to the dining room table where she could see a small stack of papers. "And give me a pen."

"You don't have to sign those," Drew said as his father handed her a pen from his pocket. He ignored his father's harrumph. 

"What does it matter?" Katie asked, already scribbling into all of the indicated lines. "It just says I can't have your money right? You know I don't care about that." She shrugged, straightening and handing back the pen. "We can get an annulment later if we need to, but at least now maybe he'll shut up," she said dryly.

His father tensed, offended, but she ignored him. "I can't believe you didn't tell me we were married," she muttered quietly to Drew as she breezed past both of them, headed toward the kitchen. "Hey, how do you work this fancy coffee machine?"

Drew's father stared after her, speechless. Drew grinned, fighting laughter.

"I'm really sorry about that, Katie," Drew said again.

Katie rolled her eyes. She was sitting in his living room, her phone in one hand and his tv remote in the other. "It's really fine," she said. "It wasn't your fault."

"It was still a terrible way to wake up," he sighed, setting the cappuccino he'd made for her on the coffee table. "Not to mention a terrible way to meet my father."

Katie grimaced. "Yeah, well…I kind of got the impression that he wouldn't like me much, regardless of circumstance…"

"Was that before or after the extremely factual assumption that he's a complete prick?"

She chortled. "So, out of curiosity… exactly how long have you known we were married?"

Drew flushed. She still found that odd to see, she was the one to do most of the blushing in their relationship. "Adrian told me about it just before we went up to your lab," he said. "I'd have told you sooner, it just seemed like we already had enough on our plate."

"Well, you aren't wrong," Katie said with a smile. "Oh!" She clapped as an image suddenly appeared on the tv screen. It looked like a white board covered in indecipherable math equations. 

"What on earth…?" Drew squinted at it, as though that would help translate it into English.

"Oh, I did it in Mr. Caldwell's classroom while we were blacked out," Katie explained. "You don't mind if I have it on here, do you? It's really hard to see it all on my phone."

"Not at all, I'm just confused about how you got it from your phone to my tv." He shook his head, grinning. "I knew you'd know more about it than me soon enough." He stared at the pictured white board uncertainly. "You know, I'm not sure why I find it so reassuring that you're still a total nerd even when utterly trashed," he muttered.

"I just wish I knew what I was thinking about when I wrote all this…" she muttered, her eyebrows drawing together.

"You don't think it's a way to fix your lamp?" Drew asked, sitting back.

Katie shook her head. "I don't know if I'd have been thinking of the lamp, or been lucid enough to think of how it was sabotaged in the first place. And you know, the more I think about it, Mildred kind of had a point…"

Drew scoffed, his eyebrows raised incredulously. Katie hunched her shoulders. " _Well_! There really should be a way to police criminals with psychic powers, because how could an average person defend themselves against that?"

"Silver, maybe?" Drew suggested, his head tilted contemplatively. "And of course, good guys learning psychic stuff, too. You don't have to save the world single-handed, Katie."

She made a face. "I know that, but…I mean, even if we had psychic cops for the psychic criminals, what are they supposed to do once they catch them? It's not like a jail cell will hold them, Isobel proved that much the other night. You saw how easily she got into my lab." She sighed, turning back to her oversized equation. "I just feel like maybe I was naïve, making lamps, and _batteries,_ like that will help anything when there are these real, actual _criminals_ that…need to be…" she trailed off, her eyes widening as they scanned the screen rapidly.

"What is it?" Drew asked hesitantly.

"I think…" Katie said slowly, reaching for the notebook on the seat beside her. "I may have just figured this out…" She started to write, speeding up as she went along until she was scribbling furiously across two pages.

"Is it something to fix the lamp?" he asked, leaning forward. "Or the battery?"

Katie paused to look up at him, her eyes glinting as she grinned. "Better."


	10. 110 - Finals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the IPS Pageant! Katie doesn't feel ready, but her friends aren't gonna let her back out. Both Katie and Drew's parents arrive to cheer her on.

** 110 – Finals **

****

"Katie, I think you may have a problem…"

Katie looked up, her eyes wide and innocent. "What do you mean? The cappuccino machine is working perfectly!"

"Is that supposed to be a cup? Or a soup bowl?" Rudy grunted, eyeing the two of them from behind the truck he was working on.

Katie sniffed daintily, hugging the cup to her chest. "I prefer not to apply labels to my coffee receptacles," she said loftily. "It holds my coffee, and that’s good enough for me."

Rudy chuckled. "It's Saturday afternoon, why aren't you two out being romantical and junk?"

"Well, I still work here…" Katie muttered. She turned in place, still hugging her coffee, but she didn't see anything that she could work on.

He rolled his eyes. "Katie, I stopped paying you by the hour after your first week. I pay you by the work you do, which you usually finish in the first twenty minutes or so." He turned back to his work. "Why don't you go up to your lab?"

Katie didn't answer, fidgeting and looking away. "Hey, maybe I can help with the truck?" she suggested. "The others aren't here, so maybe I can do something."

"You don’t know anything about repairing vehicles," Rudy said, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

"Well, I'm a fast learner," Katie said, pouting.

"This is my truck," Rudy said, frowning at her. "I'm just tuning her." He looked over at Drew. "Is it just me, or does it seem like she's avoiding going up to her lab?"

"It's not just you," Drew said dryly. "She hasn't been up there in almost a week."

Rudy grunted disapprovingly. Katie suddenly became very engrossed in her coffee, and Drew tried to mask his smile. Rudy would have questioned her further, but of course a big, fancy, foreign car chose that moment to pull into the lot. He sighed, grumbling.

"Sorry, folks, we're closed today," he called.

"Oh, we're not here for repairs." The lady called back politely in the same moment as her husband scoffed. "Does it look like this car needs _your_ services?"

The woman shot a dirty look toward her companion, and then smiled at Rudy. "Please excuse him. Travel makes him grumpy."

"Mom?" Drew moved into view, gaping at the couple. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"Oh, Valerie told us about this place, dear," she said, stepping carefully as she headed toward them. "When you weren't at home, I thought we would check here." When she reached him she gave him what Katie assumed was supposed to be a hug, though it was the weirdest one she had ever seen. She grabbed him by the shoulders and pressed her front and cheek to his for a moment before pushing him away and holding him at arm's length, surveying him affectionately. It was honestly the oddest greeting she had ever seen. Maybe it was some kind of rich-person thing…

"Um, yeah, okay…" Drew said, patting his mother's hands. "Maybe I didn't phrase my question quite right, let me try again. Mom, _what_ are you _doing_ here?"

His father's frown deepened, but his mother laughed."Well, I thought it was about time I met this wife of yours!" she said cheerfully. Katie turned beet red, and Rudy's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "You never got that annulment, it seemed rather significant." She turned to Katie, who looked like she was seriously considering drowning herself in her coffee. "Is this her?"

"It's not exactly that we decided not to get an annulment, mom," Drew muttered, flushing as well, (though nothing nearly as deep as Katie's.)

"Back up a second," Rudy grumbled, looking vaguely amused. "Are you two _married_?"

"I actually…kind of forgot," Katie squeaked, holding uncomfortably still as Drew's mother rich-person hugged her.

"We just never…" He grimaced. "Uh…got around to it."

"Never got around to it?" his father repeated pompously. "It takes two minutes. We could go right now."

"He means we never really talked about it," Katie said. Drew glanced over at her gratefully. "There's been a lot going on. It didn't seem like a huge deal."

His father laughed humorlessly, but his mother paid no mind. "Regardless, have any other of your relationships lasted this long?" She was still holding Katie at arm's length, openly beaming at her. "You are lovely, dear," she said to her matter-of-factly.

"He stayed with Valerie for nearly two years," his father pointed out.

She finally pulled away from Katie to face her husband. "Excuse me, dear, I should have been more specific. I meant to say that this is his longest relationship in which he had any interest or emotional investment." The sarcasm was obvious, and yet barely audible.

He straightened his coat with a jerk, ruffled. "At least she managed to keep him, if nothing else, _looking_ respectable," he harrumphed. "Valerie Von Saxon is a well bred young woman, a socialite with a good name to recommend her, and a much better match for Andrew than _this_ -" he gestured toward Katie, and she tensed, bracing herself for whatever insulting descriptions he had for her this time.

But his wife didn't give him the chance. (Which was probably all the better, since Rudy was holding some kind of large wrench and was starting to look agitated.) "Valerie Von Saxon is a spoiled _brat_ ," she grumbled. "A snotty little tramp whose love of money and status is only eclipsed by her need for power and control." She sniffed, turning away. "She is a terrible match for anyone, particularly someone with a mind of his own and a spine to use it, like my son."

“Ooh, I _like_ her,” Katie murmured

Drew grinned, looking back at Katie. "Told you."

His mother smiled at her again. "I'm sorry about him. Vincent has an unhealthy fascination with names. Probably because it was only recently that his family managed to acquire one." She shrugged. "Mine has had one for quite a while, so I am not thusly handicapped. I prefer to judge people by their actions rather than their title." She reached over to grip Katie's free hand with both of hers. "You can call me Laura, dear. And you should know that my impression of you is very good so far."

Oh, she _definitely_ liked his mother better than his father.

"Not that it isn't good to see you, mom," Drew began. 

"Mm-hm," she hummed sarcastically, eyeing him sidelong.

"-but exactly how long are you here for?"

"Just the weekend," she said, releasing Katie. "Go ahead and sigh in relief. I'm just your mother, what do my feelings matter?"

"We received an invitation from your school," Vincent didn't sound all that much grumpier for his wife's jabs. Probably he was used to it. "Today was the date specified for some kind of talent show."

"The annual psychics presentation, dear," Laura said patiently, patting his shoulder. "It seemed like a fairly big deal, so I took the liberty of extending an invitation of my own to your parents as well. Including plane tickets and a hotel room, of course." She smiled kindly at Katie.

Her jaw dropped in shock. "You-you flew my parents in?"

"Indeed." Vincent didn't seem as pleased with the expenditure as his wife.

"Well, yes. We wanted to meet them. I hope you don't mind." Laura frowned slightly, looking suddenly worried. "With this psychic thing this weekend, it seemed like the ideal time. Drew mentioned you were presenting something, right? Now we can all see it."

Katie's face went from bright red to completely white so fast that she was afraid she might pass out. She didn't know she could feel so seriously excited, and yet so utterly terrified at the same time.

"Oh, dear…" Laura winced. "I think I may have broke her." She waved her hand in front of Katie's face. "Katherine, sweetheart, pull yourself together. Your parents will be here soon, and I don't want them thinking I popped your brain," she had her voice raised like she was talking to her from a distance.

"Does she have _episodes_ like this often?" Vincent drawled.

"Shut up, dad," Drew growled.

"I'm fine," Katie said, her voice painfully squeaky. She cleared her throat. "I'm fine," she repeated in a more normal tone. Still not that convincing, considering how white her knuckles were gripping her soup bowl/coffee mug.

"You're sure?" Drew gently pried the cup from her hands. "Do you have a stage fright problem you never told me about?"

"No." Her voice reverted back to the squeak. "It's not that, it's just-eep!" She jumped violently when she heard a car door slam right outside.

"Good thing you grabbed the coffee," his mother murmured.

"Is that them?" Katie gasped, her panic giving way momentarily to excitement. She darted forward, and almost crashed headlong into…

Adam?

"Oh, good. You're here." Mildred appeared behind him, smiling at Katie.

"Ok, so here's what I'm thinking," Anne started, settling down at the café table beside Myst. "I think we should all do a presentation together. Now I know what you're gonna say," she added quickly, before Isobel could sneer and/or insult her. (Isobel, for her part, barely seemed to be listening.) "Why share the spotlight when we all know you're the best? But hear me out, here's my idea. A cloud. Raining _bubbles_. okay? But wait, cause' also we have tissue paper flowers that we float along with the bubbles, and for the finale, Myst sets them on _fire_!"

Myst started clapping, excited. "Oh, good. I _like_ fire!" Then she frowned. "Bubbles are hard, though, I don't like them. I'm supposed to keep them from popping, but they always _pop_."

"Oh, don't worry, I'm doing the bubbles. I can just add corn syrup." Anne waved her off. She turned back toward Isobel, who was stirring her smoothie absentmindedly with her straw. "So?" she prompted. "What do you think?"

Isobel looked up at her expectant face, sighed and rolled her eyes. "I think that the pageant is tonight, and I think that if you wanted to do something that fancy, you should have started practicing like, weeks ago."

Anne crossed her arms. "Well, you haven't exactly been available for consultation the last few weeks."

Isobel narrowed her eyes. "Excuse me, if I had known you needed me to hold your hand through your little preschool talent show, I'd have made myself more available."

"Ok, what is your _deal_?" Anne slapped her hands down on the table and Myst jumped. "Ever since you ran off with that British girl last month, you're never around! And whenever you are you're just grumpy and mean!"

"Yeah," Myst said sadly, nibbling on her scone. "You missed my birthday party. There were dolphins, it was awesome."

"Oh, give me a break, Myst," Isobel snapped. "You aren't twelve anymore, no one cares about your stupid birthday party!"

"Why are you yelling at her?" Anne patted Myst's arm, but she just looked confused. "You didn't think it was so childish when you were helping her plan it over the summer! The BMX biking sky dancers were _your_ idea! And by the way, it _was_ awesome, and you were supposed to be there! But it's like you don't even care about your friends anymore!"

Isobel almost knocked over her smoothie in frustration. "Oh, my god, okay, I just have lot on my plate right now!"

Myst blinked. "Do you need another one?" She picked the last of her scone off of her own plate, offering it to her.

"That's not what she meant, honey," Anne said, scooting the plate back to her. "And a lot of what, anyway? Not schoolwork, you've been to class like twice in the past week."

Isobel looked away, frowning. "It's not really any of your business."

"How is it not our business?" Anne cried. People were starting to look around at them, but Anne didn't care. "We're you're _friends_ , aren't we?"

Isobel ducked her head against the stares. "Ugh! Can we just talk about your stupid bubbles?" she growled.

"Come on, Isobel, what is it?" Anne persisted, though in a lower voice, to Isobel's relief. "Are you pregnant?"

" _No,_ " she scoffed, her face twisted with indignation.

"Questioning your sexuality?" she suggested, to more derisive laughter. "Tripping balls on the crystal mushrooms?"

"What?" Isobel giggled.

Anne sighed. "I don't know, my brother says it when people are acting weird."

"Are you in trouble with the mafia?" Myst asked, wanting to be included.

Isobel's giggling stopped abruptly, and her face paled. "Look, it's just complicated."

"What does that even mean?" Anne asked, staring at her. "Isobel, what is going _on_ with you?"

"Ok, you know what?" Isobel stood in a huff, grabbing her smoothie so violently she almost popped the lid and spilled it everywhere. "I've just been busy. Some people have lives. And if this is what I get for trying to hang out with you, I don't know why you're so surprised that I'm never around." She turned and stormed out of the café.

Myst stared after her for a moment, then nudged Anne. "Maybe she's getting the crystal mushrooms _from_ the mafia!" she suggested excitedly.

If Anne was listening, she gave no indication. As soon as Isobel was out of sight, she stood, and grabbed Myst's arm. "Come on," she said. Myst barely had time to grab her smoothie before Anne dragged her out the door.

"We're closed."

Adam waved his hand at Rudy. "Oh, we're not here for our car, we're here to see Katie."

"I've been trying for weeks to talk some sense into her, you see," Mildred said rather loudly to Rudy, looking pointedly at him even though her attention was obviously on the others. "She just won't listen. Hopefully her _father_ can make some sort of impact, because if not, I'm afraid she may be a lost cause." She sniffed delicately.

"We're still closed," Rudy repeated firmly, but they both ignored him.

"Father?" Vincent looked Adam over dubiously.

"These… _aren't_ your parents?" Laura guessed, glancing between the two newcomers and Katie's horrified expression.

"Oh, actually, we are," Adam said, stepping forward and holding out his hand. "I'm Adam, and this is my wife-"

"These aren't my parents," Katie blurted, turning back to Laura with her eyes wide as saucers. "Adam and Mildred are _not_ my parents."

Adam faltered, frowning. "Well, Millie is technically her stepmother-"

"Not my parents," Katie repeated forcefully, shaking her head. 

Mildred propped a hand on her hip, offended. "You know, that's a really hurtful thing to say, Katie," she said tightly. "You may not like me, but Adam is still your father-"

" _Biologically_ ," Katie said, her voice sounding slightly strangled. She was starting to look panicked. "These aren't the ones- I mean, they live here. So, I mean, they're not good- they…uh, they didn't have any impact on my…uh, on my upbringing," she stuttered.

"Oh, you say that like it's a _good_ thing!" Mildred had made a short jump from 'offended' to 'pissed'. "Maybe if we _had_ , you'd have been raised with some _manners_!" Her face was blotchily red and her jowls were starting to quiver.

"Millie," Adam held up a placating hand, but she slapped it down.

"She reminds me of Gertrude," Vincent muttered blandly.

"Yes she does," Laura muttered back, not nearly as blandly, her nose wrinkled in distaste.

"There are a lot of things I didn't say about your family out of _respect_ ," Katie snorted, and Mildred's nostrils flared, but she continued vehemently. "You don't know your bible, you won't go to church," her voice rose to an uncomfortable volume as she started to tick off Katie's faults. "You're defiant to any attempts to help you, and now you're living in _sin_ with that horrible boy you met at that _unholy school of yours_!"

"Living in sin?" Drew's mother asked him quietly, sounding amused.

Drew lifted both shoulders. "We didn't think it was all that necessary to explain the situation to them," he answered just as quietly, keeping his eyes on Katie. She was very white and very still, and he was starting to get worried.

"If you were really my daughter, I would be _ashamed_ of you," she ground out. Katie's eyes narrowed. "And your parents should be ashamed of _themselves_ for raising you so that you behave like this."

At least, that's what Mildred might have said, if she'd managed to finish her sentence. But she only got to, "…so that you beha-" when Katie, before she could think better of it, and too fast for anyone to stop her, surged forward and slapped her hard across the face.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," a new voice sounded from the entrance. Rudy started grumbling as even _more_ people barged into his very closed garage.

Katie, however, was victim to yet another uncomfortably rapid change in emotion, shifting from rage almost immediately to joy. "Daddy!" she squeaked, barreling past Mildred and almost knocking her over in the process. Adam visibly flinched as Katie leapt up to bear hug the man who just walked in.

The man hugged her back, chuckling. "I'm so proud of you! I'd have been able to hear that smack from the car, if I needed to." He let her go and started to ease her forward. "Maybe let your mother handle things from here, though?" he suggested in an undertone, smirking.

Katie looked over his shoulder to see her mother bearing down on Mildred, seething with murderous fury. "Um…I think you're right," she said, and started moving faster.

"Hi there!" Her father greeted the group merrily. They were really only a few feet away from the other three, so her mother's shouting was rather hard to ignore, but Drew's parents managed to keep their attention trained on him. Rudy actually clambered onto the bumper of his truck to get a better view of her mother and step-mother duking it out. Drew, on the other hand , was having issues processing the situation. He was still reeling from having seen Katie actually _slap_ someone.

"This is my dad, Tom Johnson," Katie introduced.

"Good to see you," Tom grinned. He seemed nice enough, and not nearly as imposing as Drew's father. He was a few inches shorter than him, with graying light brown hair, glasses, and a polo shirt tucked in over a bit of a pot-belly. Honestly, if he'd had a beard, he'd look like a young Santa Clause. "I hear my daughter's gotten married!" he announced jovially. He glanced between Drew, his parents, and Rudy, his eyes crinkling. "So which one-a y'all am I hugging?"

Katie dropped her head into her hands, and Drew snorted. Vincent looked offended, but his mother laughed, stepping forward and holding out her hand to shake. Tom took it without hesitation. "Well, I'll be honest," he began, before she could introduce herself. "I would _not_ have called that." He looked back at Katie. "You don't think she's a bit old for you?"

Katie doubled over with laughter, and Vincent started to harrumph. "Actually, I would be her mother-in-law," Drew's mother said with a small laugh. "She's married to my son, Drew." She waved toward her son, who was biting his fist to keep from laughing. "I'm Laura Vant, and that one over there is my husband, Vincent."

"Nice to meet you," he said, shaking her hand. "Like Katie said, I'm Tom, and that wildcat back there is my wife, Helen." He pivoted to look back at the entrance, and raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well, lookit that. Seems like she's about done taking out the trash…"

Helen was walking toward them, still fuming but looking far more collected than Mildred. Behind her, Adam was practically dragging his wife out by the back of her shirt. She looked like she might bust an artery. 

"That woman should be grateful you slapped her before I could," Helen grumbled when she reached them. "You do less damage than I would." She brandished her hand, on which she had two very old-looking rings set with stones the size of robin's eggs.

"I've never seen Katie hit anyone," Drew said, sounding about as shocked as he looked. Katie bit her lip, twisting her fingers sheepishly. "I honestly don't think I've ever even seen her angry."

Katie hunched her shoulders. "I'm not a very angry person," she said, a little defensive. "Or a violent one, but she was just being _so-_ "

"It's okay, Katie," Drew said. 

"Is it?" Vincent almost snorted. Laura elbowed him in the ribs.

"I get, it, trust me," Drew continued, ignoring his parents. Katie was clearly back to normal, which was a relief in itself. "It was about time that witch got slapped, and if you hadn't I can count at least two other people in here besides your mom that would have handled it for you." He smirked up at Rudy, who grunted. "It was just a really weird thing to see from you," he explained, lifting a shoulder. "Like the Loch Ness monster popped up and started singing opera or something."

"You think _that_ was bad?" Tom chuckled. "You should see her when someone insults her little sister."

Katie looked like she meant to step on his foot, but then she blinked. "Oh, how _is_ Lisa?" she asked, craning her neck to look back at the entrance of the garage. "Is she with you?" she asked hopefully.

"Sorry, honey," her mom said regretfully. "The invitation only covered two people. She's back at home."

"Probably throwing a rave and destroying the house," her dad said seriously. "More importantly, though, what's this I hear about you performing in this presentation thing? I thought you said you couldn't do any of the flashy, fancy stuff?"

"She showing off her inventions, actually," Drew answered for her, before she could deny it. Katie's face started to return to the bright red she was sporting before Mildred showed up.

Helen raised her eyebrows. "Inventions?" She repeated, surprised. She looked over at Katie, who seemed to have lost all capacity to speak.

"Um…" Katie mumbled, when Drew didn't answer for her. He nodded at her encouragingly. "Yeah, um…they're actually upstairs," she said shyly. "If-if you want to see them."

"Well, I don't see why not," Laura said agreeably. "Lead the way." Vincent didn't say anything, but sighed in resignation.

"It's this way," Drew offered, when Katie hesitated. He was nearer the door, anyway. The four parents followed him out the back, and Katie brought up the rear, looking like she might pass out.

Why on earth Isobel would be skulking around an abandoned subway station was beyond her, but it was going to be one of the first things Anne asked about when they finally tracked her down.

"This place smells awful," Myst whined. "It's making me dizzy! Can we leave soon?"

"We'll leave as soon as we see what Isobel is doing here," Anne whispered, tip-toeing down a few more steps.

Myst sighed. "Smells like marshmallow's litter box…" she mumbled into her smoothie.

Anne turned to shush her , but it was drowned out both by Myst's yelp and the loud metallic screeching that suddenly echoed up from the base of the stairs.

Myst clutched her heart, gasping. "What was that?" she asked in a harsh whisper. "Was that Isobel? Is she okay?"

"I don't know," Anne whispered back, her eyes wide and frightened. They both rushed down the rest of the stairs, now paying little mind to how much noise they were making. When they reached the dark, gloomy, graffiti covered subway station it was almost at a full run, but Isobel was nowhere to be seen.

"Isobel?" Myst called, raising her voice to an almost normal indoor-volume.

"But what made that noise?" Anne asked weakly. She stepped closer to the tracks, which opened into the only visible exit besides the one they'd just come from. The left side was blocked by a couple of subway cars that looked utterly wrecked. It was like their sides had been peeled off. Well, that might explain the noise, but how had it happened?

"Maybe she rode one of the train cars somewhere?" Myst suggested. She stepped into one of the cars and started fiddling with the controls.

"Myst, get out of there!" Anne cried in an undertone. "You don't know, whatever ripped those things up might still be here!"

Myst shook her head, frowning. "No, if they had just been cut, the metal would still be hot," she said simply. "I don't know how she got it moving, though, it doesn't seem to be getting any power."

"Well of course not," Anne mumbled. With Myst's reassurance, she edged closer to the track, peering down the dark opening to the right. "They cut off the electricity when they closed these things decades ago."

"Well, then, why are the lights on?" Myst asked, hopping down from the car.

Anne froze and blinked, noticing for the first time that the entire room was lit. Poorly, and creepily, but definitely artificially. "…I don't know," she muttered with an air of surprise. "That's so weird."

"Are we still following Isobel?" Myst asked, coming up beside her. "Or can we go home? It really stinks down here." She pouted around her straw.

Anne heaved a sigh. "I know. But Isobel definitely came down here, and I want to know why."

She looked back at Myst, who shrugged. "I dunno. Buried treasure, maybe?"

Anne made a face. "Whatever. She had to have gone this way, right?" she asked, pointing to the open side of the tracks. "I don't see any other ways out."

"I guess so," Myst sighed, bored. "We'll have to walk, though. I can't get the cars to work."

"Yeah…" Anne grimaced. She stepped forward to crouch at the edge of the platform, then hopped down onto the tracks. "The lights don't go into the tunnel," she said, peering into the mouth of the tunnel. She could barely see the tracks as it was, the light was so dim in the station, so the fade to blackness was almost immediate. Myst knelt down near her head, hesitating to jump down. "You think you can make us a fire, so we can see?" she asked, glancing up at her.

Myst frowned reluctantly. "Miss Brown said I couldn't."

"She's not here, is she?" Myst bit her lip, and Anne rolled her eyes. "Look, we don't have time to go get a flashlight. It won't hurt anything."

Myst held back a moment longer, then shrugged and held out her hand. A small fire swirled to life about an inch above her palm. Anne clapped happily, and took her smoothie so she could jump down. "Ok, lets go. She'll have gotten ahead of us."

Myst grumbled and took her smoothie back. "It stinks even worse down here."

"Ugh!" Myst groaned. "There's nothing _down_ here!"

"There must be _something_ down here, or else why would Isobel be down here?"

They had been walking for at least a mile without seeing a single thing - except maybe a few rats. And Myst's complaining was getting progressively louder, particularly since she'd finished her smoothie.

"We've been walking _forever_!" she whined. "My feet hurt. I'm not wearing the right shoes for this."

"Look, my feet hurt, too, okay?" Anne was trying not to lose her patience. No matter how annoying she got, Myst was still her friend. (Not to mention her only source of light.) "But aren't you worried about Isobel? We need to figure out what's going on with her."

"If she doesn't want to tell us, maybe we should just leave her alone about it!" Myst griped, slumping over as she walked, and nearly setting her hair on fire in the process. "She'll be so mad that we followed her! If we can find her. And it _stinks_ down here, and it's creepy and cold and there are bugs and rats and I think I'm getting a blister!"

"Who are you?"

Anne shrieked and jumped, flailing violently for a second. She couldn’t help it. One second she was resisting the urge to beat her friend's head repeatedly against the train tracks, the next, a ghostly figure appeared in the shadows beside them, staring at them with wide, gray, expressionless eyes. She only caught a quick glimpse, however, before they were plunged into darkness as Myst's fire extinguished in her own fright. "Myst? _Myst_!" Anne squeaked, groping for her friend in an all-too-blind panic.

"Sorry! Sorry!" she cried, her voice pitched so high it was barely audible. A new fire appeared a scant few inches from Anne's face, and she jumped back.

"I thought that's what that was." The ghost girl had come closer, and her head was tilted as she stared at the fire Myst was holding. "You're a pyrokinetic?"

The girl wasn't any less creepy given enough time to look at her, and it took Myst three tries to answer her. "Miss Brown says pyrokinesis is only one aspect of elekinesis," she croaked. "She says we can't limit ourselves."

The girl blinked slowly at her. "Miss Brown is most likely an idiot," she said quite candidly. "I sincerely hope that doesn't extend to you. And now, again, who are you?"

"Myst," she said quickly, clearing her throat. "With a Y. And that's my friend Anne."

"Myst. With a Y," she repeated. "And Anne." She looked over at Anne, who looked like she might pass out. "And what are you doing here?"

"Stalking our friend and growing blisters," Myst said sullenly. 

Anne released a strangled laugh, drawing the girl's attention. "She-she just means, ah-" she gasped out, her voice breaking. "We're _looking_ for our friend Isobel."

The girl's head tilted further, almost imperceptibly. "Isobel?"

"Oh, do you know her?" Myst asked. She had calmed considerably, seeming almost comfortable with the unnerving ghost girl.

The girl's lips twitched. "Yes, I do know her," she said, her voice deepening slightly in amusement. She glanced between the two of them appraisingly for a moment, then turned. "Follow me."

"Um," Anne squeaked. The girl paused. "Wh-where are we going?"

The girl looked back at her over her shoulder. "To Isobel," she said. Her lips curled into a small and _extremely_ unsettling smile. "And Craig." She turned back to face the wall of the tunnel. Even staring right at it, it took Anne a second to notice the door. "If you're lucky, you may even survive the encounter."

"Wait, what does _that_ mean?" Anne's eyes widened in alarm. She skipped to catch up to Myst, who was already following the girl to the door. Apparently _she_ found the dark, damp and foul smelling tunnel just a bit more offensive than the concept of _death and dismemberment_.

This time the girl didn't turn. "It means you two have poked your noses where they don't belong," she answered, her voice flat. The door made a clicking noise as she touched it, and she opened it into a dimly lit hallway. "It would be in your best interests to follow me. However, if you'd rather wander around the subway tracks until the next car comes along to squish you, you are more than welcome." She lingered in the doorway, looking back at them. Her expression had melted back into a mask of boredom. "I really don't care either way." 

Myst was already walking toward her. For a split second Anne considered running back the way they had come, but then what? She had the very distinct impression that these people weren't the kinds she could hide from. She fell into step behind her friend, her heart pounding.

"Oh, it smells _so_ much better in here!" Myst cheered, apparently completely oblivious to their impending doom. "I don't even care if you kill me, I'm just so happy to be away from that smell!" okay, well, maybe not _completely_ oblivious.

"I'm not partial to it either," the girl said, leading them down the hall. After a few dozen feet, they started to pass closed doors. "I usually have to breathe through my mouth until the train ride is over."

"Actually," Anne sped up so she was walking nearer the girl, attempting to surreptitiously prod her on the arm or shoulder. She looked more human as the lighting got better, but Anne would feel more comfortable if she could be certain the girl was fully tangible. "Speaking of that whole 'killing us' thing, were you being serious? Miss…uh…"

"Shira," the girl said blandly. She glanced over her shoulder and quirked an eyebrow at Anne's outstretched hand. She froze, beginning to panic, but the girl just rolled her eyes and slapped the hand away. Well, at least she knew she was tangible. "And it's a possibility," Shira continued. "Craig has been on edge the last few weeks." She looked back over her shoulder, giving Anne another unsettling smile. "But don't worry. If he does kill you, you won't feel it. He's practical about that sort of thing."

"But you said we might survive, right?" Anne asked anxiously.

"Oh, yes. It's possible."

Anne waited a few seconds, hoping that she would elaborate, but Shira just kept walking. The hallway had splintered in multiple directions, and they had already turned more corners than she could keep track of. "Like, how possible?" she prompted, jogging every other step to keep up. "Is there something we could do to improve our chances? How likely would you say it was that we'd survive?" Myst wasn't even paying attention, to her frustration. Some of the doors they were passing now were cracked or fully open, and she was trying to peer inside the rooms as they rapidly passed them.

"I'm not the best precog," Shira said with a small shrug. "I prefer divination, but I would say that your odds are better than fifty-fifty."

"So, is this like a school?" Myst asked, her voice jumping as she ran to catch up. She actually paused to look into the last room, where three different guys were psychically ripping and then mending lengths of fabric. "Because we go to IPS."

She wasn't facing them, but Anne got the impression that the girl was smirking. "Yes, I assumed you were enrolled in paranormal preschool." Anne felt a surge of defensiveness for their school, but bit her tongue. "But this is more like…a club."

"…A club?" Anne repeated dubiously.

"Are boys allowed?" Myst asked. "Ooh, do you make pillow forts?" she added excitedly, pivoting to stare into a room piled high with all different kinds of pillows.

"Sometimes," Shira answered.

Myst clapped. "Awesome!"

"What exactly does this club do?" Anne asked. "Besides pillow forts?"

"Whatever we want," Shira answered plainly, without an ounce of irony. She was starting to slow down; the corridor they'd turned into dead-ended into an open room, and it seemed to be where they were headed. 

Anne glanced around tentatively as they entered the room, wondering at how nondescript it was. Ever since they'd started following Shira - Really, ever since she'd set foot on the subway tracks, she had been experiencing a growing sense of dread. Since leaving the track, though, the scenery refused to jibe with her feelings. Being led through an underground lair by a creepy ghost girl led her to expect something more like a torchlit dungeon, decorated with moaning, emaciated wraiths hanging from the walls. But for the most part, it looked like a dull, generic office building. The room they stopped in reminded her strongly of the waiting room at her dentist's office. The only other person there was a guy sitting at a desk near a closed door. He was shuffling and dealing a deck of cards over and over very quickly, and didn't look up when they walked in.

"Craig's rearranging the tutors," he droned, and popped his gum. He paused in dealing what looked like poker hands (the one near him was a straight flush, while the other was jack-high) and gave Myst and Anne each a once-over. "Who're these, new natives?" He smirked lecherously.

"That's up to Craig," Shira said. The guy raised his eyebrows, but didn't stop her as she walked past his desk and opened the door. "Excuse me," she said, less than apologetic, holding the door open and waving the other two in.

There were five people in this room, sitting around some kind of conference table. A large pane of glass rose from the center of the table, covered in glowing diagrams and writing. It seemed to have been the center of everyone's attention before Shira barged in, but they all looked over when she excused herself. The man nearest the door stood, raising an eyebrow. "Shira. Are you training telekinesis now?" he asked.

The girl sitting beside him blanched, staring at them with wide eyes. "Anne? Myst?" she choked.

"Hi Isobel!" Myst waved happily. "There's a pillow fort room, did you know?

The man, Anne assumed he was the 'Craig' Shira had been telling them about, glanced between them and Isobel, frowning. "And these are?" he asked her, sounding both annoyed and resigned.

"Friends of Isobel's," Shira answered promptly.

Craig sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Were they invited?" he asked openly, as though to anyone who could answer, but he was looking at Isobel.

She looked petrified, but she tried to answer anyway. "Sir…I…" Isobel started to stutter.

"Sir?" Shira interrupted. Craig looked back at her expectantly, clearly beginning to lose his patience. She didn't seem all that concerned, and Anne wasn't sure if that was reassuring or terrifying. "Myst with a Y," she gestured Myst forward. "Will you please show Craig your fire?"

Myst fidgeted for a second, watching Craig warily, but held out her hand and ignited a new fire in midair above her palm.

Craig's demeanor shifted dramatically as he watched Myst's fire. He didn't look any less dangerous (Anne wasn't sure that would be possible without the help of a few elephant tranquilizers and a straight jacket) but in the very least, he looked a lot less murderous. Given the circumstances, she would take what she could get. "And you?" he asked, turning to her. 

Anne gulped, but set her jaw. "I-I'm in telekinesis," she said, wincing at the stutter. She still sounded better than Isobel. She scrambled for a second, trying to think of something she could manipulate, and settled with taking out her earrings. They weren't very big, just simple diamond studs, so she was able to hover them a few inches above her hands without much difficulty. 

He clearly wasn't as impressed with her as he had been with Myst, but he sighed. "Fine," he said, moving back to the table to sit. "Isobel, you're responsible for them. Get them set up." He waved her off, turning his attention back to the glass. 

"Yes, sir," Isobel said politely, and stood. 

"Make sure you get the pyro to see the brains before Monday," he called after her as she practically dragged her friends out the door. Shira followed after them, actually giggling. 

"This looks like my first apartment," Tom chortled, framing the scene with his hands.

"I didn't know you did mad science in your first apartment," Helen retorted dryly, coming up beside him.

Vincent didn't look very impressed as he stepped into Katie's lab, his wife following close behind him. "It doesn't look very sanitary," he muttered.

"She's not doing surgery, dad," Drew said dryly. "These are psychic experiments."

The room was actually a lot cleaner than it had started out, sort of inevitable after having to spend half a day scouring sterling silver from every surface. The 'furniture' had reached its final stage of evolution as well, with the inclusion of some cinder blocks, old tires, and a few sheets of plywood they had managed to arrange themselves two desks, a couch, a coffee table, and even a bookcase.

"So, what does this do?" Katie's mom was leaning over her desk, which had three different types of old computer, a pile of sensors, and a soldering iron. She picked up a magnetic desk toy that started spinning as she lifted it. "Oh, that's cool. How is it doing that?"

"Oh, that's just a toy. I was examining the magnetic fields." She took the toy from her mom and set it back down. "None of this is an invention. Most of it is just to test and plan, really."

"That thing looks like it belongs in a museum." Vincent squinted at the laptop she had open and hooked up to the sensors. Katie blushed.

"You should be happy, dear," Laura said patronizingly. "She clearly isn't wasting our son's money to fund her hare-brained experiments." She smiled at him sweetly.

Helen giggled, and tried to mask it with a cough when Drew's father frowned at her. "So, where _are_ your inventions?" she asked quickly.

"I think that box has an idea." Tom grinned, pointing to a box sitting on the floor nearby that happened to have a light bulb sticking out the top. Helen elbowed him in the ribs.

"That box is actually Katie's psychic lamp," Drew said. "Newly refurbished, but it still works just fine."

Drew moved to turn it on, but Katie started shaking her head, looking panicked. "Oh, but there's a design flaw I still haven't worked out, if anyone is wearing silver-" she started fretting, rushing forward to get between him and the lamp.

Drew laughed, grabbing her shoulders. "Everyone here is already married, what's the worst that could happen?" he asked, grinning playfully as he eased her over so he could crouch down by the lamp.

"It could explode and kill us!" Katie squeaked. She grabbed his arm and tugged, but Drew was easily twice her size. She would need some kind of ridiculous pulley system to move him against his will. "Or we could black out again! _With our parents_!" she ended in a horrified whisper.

But it was too late, Drew had already switched on the power. "Ok, everyone step back a bit," he said as he stood. He smiled reassuringly at Katie and wrapped an arm around her waist to lead her away. "It'll be fine," he whispered.

"Why?" his mom asked as she backed up. "Will it really explode?" She yanked her husband back against the far wall when he didn't move.

"No, it's just still a work in progress." He set Katie against the wall next to Tom. She started squirming and her dad hugged her around her shoulders, chuckling. "If too many people try and interact with it, it'll spaz out," he explained.

"Spaz out?" His father still sounded haughty, but he looked alarmed. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"The bulb popped like a balloon," Katie said wryly. "It was terrifying."

Vincent's nostrils flared. He didn't seem in the least bit reassured. (Which appeared to amuse his wife.) "So what exactly does it do?" she asked.

"I'll show you," Drew said, and took her hand to lead her forward. "It's really easy and really cool." He positioned her in front of the lamp. "Now, just look at the lamp and _think_ , 'On'."

Laura snorted and stared at her son, who stared back calmly. "Are you serious?" Drew nodded, but she still looked doubtful. "You can't be serious." 

Drew smiled. "I'm completely serious. Try it and see."

She looked back at the lamp hesitantly, and a moment later, when the light clicked on, she leapt backward in shock. "What?" she yelped.

"It's okay!" Katie said quickly. "I developed this sensor, it's just able to detect whether a thought directed at it is positive or negative in nature."

"Really?" her father's eyes were wide with interest. "How did you manage that? Does psychic energy conduct frequencies?

"Kind of!" Katie answered excitedly, and Drew grinned. This was the Katie he knew, about to start explaining at a mile a minute with long, unintelligible words, exactly how something she loved worked.

"Ok, is this a trick?" Laura asked before Katie and her father could start discussing psychic conductivity. "Does one of you have a remote?"

"Nope," Drew said with a laugh. "Mom, how would we have known when you thought 'on'?" he asked.

"You can turn it off, too," Katie offered. "Rudy kept flipping it randomly because he thought it was a trick, too."

"Oh, I want to try!" Tom stepped forward, rubbing his hands together, looking thoroughly diabolical.

"Careful though, please don't break it," Katie stated to fret. The bulb at the top of the lamp flickered rapidly, then started to glow brighter and hum. "Oh, no, Drew-"

"I got it," Drew darted forward and flipped the power back off. "It's really actually pretty terrifying if it pops," he said seriously when he straightened, facing his mom, who still seemed a little freaked out.

"You said 'inventions', plural," Vincent said, a grudging interest temporarily overpowering his pompousness. He moved away from the wall and started to head toward her lamp. "Does that mean you have more like this?"

"Um, well, I have two others, but, um…" She gestured to a box nearby, acting as a table for an odd glass bread pan filled with a white-ish goo and wires, with a small piece of metal clamped to the top like a lid. "I don't know what to do with this, and I haven't been able to test my newest one."

He paused to wrinkle his nose at the goo. "And how long have you been working on this?"

"A few months?" She was so nervous it came out like a question. "I started working on stuff back in October."

"And what does the tapioca do?" her father asked. Tom had stopped to look at the bread pan when it was clear he wouldn't get to play with the lamp. Helen was a few feet away, keeping a wary eye on him like he was some kind of a hyperactive child in a china shop.

"It's nanocrystalline silicon particles suspended in a gelatinous matrix," Katie said automatically. Drew snorted.

"So, what does the quartz gel do?" her father responded without missing a beat. Katie smiled sheepishly.

"It stores psychic energy," she said. "I meant for it to work like a battery, except the energy isn't compatible with things running on electricity." She sighed. "I either need to make something that runs on psychic energy, or figure out some way to use it to generate electricity."

"A generator may be best to start off with," Tom said thoughtfully.

"And this thing?" her mother asked, looking at a device set against the far wall near the psychic lamp. Unlike the lamp, which was cased in wood, this thing was made with sheets of metal. It was taller than it was wide, coming up to about Katie's hip, with a weird little cube sitting on top. The frame for the cube, which looked like it was made with something like a coat hanger, was strung on all six sides with a grid of wire. There didn't seem to be anything else to it.

"No idea," Drew said. "She built it when we were blacked out."

"I didn't _build_ it," Katie protested. "I wrote out an equation…"

"But she won't tell anyone what it does," Drew interrupted, smirking.

"It might not even do anything," Katie said defensively. "I have to test it first!"

"So let's test it!" Tom cried enthusiastically, throwing up his arms and rushing toward the mystery contraption.

His wife stopped him, grabbing him by the belt of his pants. "You just won't be satisfied until you trash one of our daughter's inventions, will you?"

"Well, duh," he snorted. "We can finally get her back for that microwave thing," he added quietly.

"You only ever said not to put metal in it!" Katie exclaimed.

"I think I'm a little afraid to ask," Laura murmered.

"Anyway, apparently she needs a telekinetic to test it," Drew said.

"Don't you have a building full of those right down the street?" her father asked, still struggling halfheartedly against his wife’s restraining hand.

"The students aren't good enough, and the teachers are too busy," Katie said sadly.

Drew rolled his eyes. "She never managed to ask any of them," he corrected.

"Won't there be plenty at the show?" Laura was still standing near the lamp, watching as her husband poked and prodded the base, and wires extending from it.

"Definitely," Drew answered for her. "And at least one very proficient telekinetic," he added, with a significant look at Katie.

Laura nodded cheerfully, not noticing Katie's hesitation. "Well, good, you can ask one tonight. So which one of these are you taking?" She looked over to see Katie wringing her hands, staring blankly at the lamp. She patted her husband's shoulder, getting his attention. "Maybe you should stop. I think you may be upsetting her," she told him quietly. "Or are you taking all of them?" She suggested as Vincent stood.

Katie shook her head. "The battery doesn't do anything…" she muttered. "And the lamp still has so many bugs…"

Drew frowned at her. "Katie, a few weeks ago it would have been impossible to keep you from showing every one of these off." He stepped closer and touched her arm, leaning closer to meet her eyes. "Seriously, is something the matter?"

Katie fidgeted awkwardly, turning bright red. "It's just…they're not …ready…"

Drew's eyes widened and he stepped back, realization dawning. "Oh, my god, are you afraid you'll get a bad _grade_?"

Tom started to laugh as Katie's face reddened even further. "That sounds like her."

" Wouldn't surprise me either." Katie spun to find Rudy standing in the doorway. "So what all is going?" he asked, pointing around the room. "Just the voodoo-mind-reading lamp, or is there more?"

"We'll take everything," Drew said, firmly.

"In what?" Katie huffed, exasperated. "It's not like this will all fit in your car, Drew!" She was trying to sound irritated, but she was still so red that it didn't carry much weight.

"Thought you might try that one," Rudy said, smirking. "That's why I brought Bessie out of retirement." He flipped a ring of keys into his hand and nodded back toward the garage. Apparently 'Bessie' was his antique truck.

Katie deflated, and Drew grinned. "I'll help get it loaded."

Keiko walked into Walter's office without knocking, as she had been in the habit of doing for the past few decades. "Don't come in, I'm naked," he mumbled distractedly.

"If you were, I'd have brought a camera," she said, and flopped down on his couch.

Walter set his papers aside and took off his glasses. "How is it you always know when I forget to lock my door?"

"I have the eventuality earmarked," she said with a small smile. "And you had better be taking me to dinner, senshi. Last time you wanted to eat _after_ the pageant, and I was practically chewing on the seats before it was over."

"Ugh, we're still doing that?" Walter groaned. "That pageant was the worst idea I ever had. Bunch of telekinetics parading around juggling cotton balls like they're the answer to the universe," he grumbled.

Keiko smiled patiently. "What bothers you more, senshi, that the pageant hasn't fulfilled the purpose you intended it for, or that the showboating kinetics remind you of yourself when you were younger?"

"I'm not your senshi," he responded petulantly, blatantly ignoring everything else she had said.

She laughed. "Their hubrus won't amount to anything. It's a trait developed from their lifestyles, and their influence is temporary, superficial, and minute."

Walter swiveled his chair around, facing her with a suspicious frown. "You're awfully chipper. Last time I saw you, you were popping aspirin like pez candies. What's got you so happy?"

"Not sure." She shrugged. "But it's good, and it's soon." She turned thoughtful for a moment, then smiled. "I try and pin it down, but it's difficult, and I'm tired. In any case, where shall we go for dinner? I'd like something with rice."

Walter groaned, kicking off to make his chair spin. "Why must I go? I don't want to, it's so pointless." Between the spinning and the tone of his voice, he couldn’t have looked and sounded more like a child if he tried.

"You must go because the pageant was _your_ idea," she said, lifting her chin. "And if I have to go, so do you."

"So don’t you go, either!" he whined, still spinning.

"I have to go, I'm the one with the keys," Keiko said flatly. She held out her foot to stop his chair, and he almost went flying. "Now, get your coat, Kanpai is having a special, and if we leave now we'll get the good cook and a free dessert."

"Weren't you tired?" he grumbled.

"I'm never that tired. Now hurry up."

"What were you _thinking_??" Isobel shrieked, stomping up the subway stairs ahead of them. When she reached the gate chained over the entryway it practically exploded open before she could even touch it. She took a deep breath, trying to get a better handle on her temper. "Were you trying to get me killed? To get us _all_ killed?" Her voice was still too loud, but at least nothing else blew up.

"Well, I'm sorry!" Anne cried, running after her without so much as a glance at the smoking gate. "I didn't know you were in cahoots with the psychic-freaking- _mob_! Maybe if you'd told us, we wouldn't have followed you!"

Isobel rounded on her, fuming. "Did those look like the types of people you rat on?" she asked incredulously. Myst had paused behind them to examine the gate and it's blown lock. "I'm not sure if you noticed, but those people back there aren't exactly girl scouts! They told me not to tell anyone, and I didn't. Because, by the way, they would have killed me!" 

"Isobel?" Myst struggled to close the gate behind them. "I know you're angry and everything, and it's completely okay with me if you want to keep yelling at Anne because it was all her idea, but can we go back to Peach's?" She gave up on the gate and turned to give Isobel a pleading look. "I finished my smoothie, and I was holding fire for, like, an hour, and I'm really tired and thirsty."

Isobel made an odd noise and started to shake violently. Anne was genuinely worried she might go the same way as the gate. But she managed to take a couple of breaths and then sigh. "We can go get smoothies." She gestured to the gate and it clattered reluctantly back into place.

"Look, Isobel, I'm sorry you almost got killed, okay?" Isobel scoffed in mocking disbelief. Myst was still clapping over her show of telekinesis. "But it's not exactly our fault, okay, we're not the ones who joined the psychic mafia!"

"Maybe you weren't _before_ ," Isobel said coldly. She brushed past her to head up the last few steps to get to street level. "Like it or not, you're both members of the Underground now. Which isn't the mob, just so you know."

"But that's good, right?" Myst asked, trotting up after her. "We're all in the same club, so we'll see each other more! Not to mention we get to live, and also, I'm allowed to make fire there."

Surprisingly, Myst's chattering seemed to calm Isobel down. She looked amused, if exhausted. "When the teacher said you couldn't create fire from nothing, she didn't mean it wasn't _allowed_ ," she said, threading her arm through Myst's and slowing to walk in step with her. "She meant it wasn't possible. The teachers at IPS don't think it's possible for fire to be ignited and maintained without fuel." It was easier for her to act nice now that she could flaunt her experience. 

"Oh." Myst blinked. "Should I show them?"

"No. That's actually rule number one." She craned her neck to check that Anne was still with them and listening. She was right behind them, arms crossed and irritable, but still paying attention. "Biggest, most important rule in the Underground…'Don't show off,'" Isobel said. "You'll hear it every day, 'this is the Underground, not a circus.'"

"And what exactly is 'the Underground'?" Anne asked. "Like, what does 'Underground' even mean?"

"Well, no one really knows," Isobel answered loftily. "Except maybe Mal. He's the one who started the Underground," she explained before they could ask. "As far as what the Underground is, I guess it's kind of like a club."

"Yeah, that's what the baby Bloody Mary Shira said," Anne said with a frown. "But I don't remember anyone from Glee club threatening to kill people who crashed a meeting."

"Yeah, well, we're in the real world now." Isobel shrugged. "And Craig and some of the others can be kind of scary, but the stuff you learn there is beyond anything they can do at IPS."

"Like pushing a subway car?" Myst asked, her eyes wide and expectant. She had been fascinated when Isobel started the train car earlier.

Isobel made a face. "I didn't actually push it," she admitted. "No one can push anything that heavy. I just powered the mechanism. You'll learn how to do it, too. Until you do, you'll have to stay with me."

"But how can I learn?" Myst asked, confused. "You're a telekinetic, and I'm elekinetic."

"Doesn't matter," Isobel said, shaking her head. "Even the people at IPS know that anyone can learn any of the abilities. They just have no idea how to teach anyone."

"But the Underground does," Anne suggested sardonically.

"Mm," Isobel hummed, grimacing. "Better than anyone at IPS, anyway. Mal usually knows the best way to teach people, but I guess he's missing or something. That's why I've been gone so much. Craig is getting anyone with enough training to help tutor the newest natives."

"Natives?" The sidewalk was getting wider the closer they got to the shops, so Anne sped up to walk on Isobel's other side.

"It's what we call the newest people," Isobel said. "I'm not sure why, though. It's just a thing."

"So does this mean you're going to tutor Anne and me?" Myst asked, excited.

"I'll probably help tutor Anne," Isobel agreed, smirking at the thought. "But you're not a native, you're a prime. That's a person who's already naturally really good at a psychic ability," she explained indulgently when they both looked at her blankly. "Craig will probably have the brains figure out a way for you to tutor other pyrokinetics."

"Ok, well, this is fascinating," Anne said sourly, less than pleased at Myst's sudden jump in status over her. "But what did thug alpha mean when he told you to get us set up?"

Isobel lifted one shoulder. "We have to pick you up some stuff. A set of scale weights for both of you, so you can practice stuff at home, things like that."

"Will we have time to go to the pageant?" Unlike Anne, Myst didn't seem all that affected by the news of her abilities.

"Shopping shouldn't take that long," Isobel hedged. "We could go, but it might not be a good idea to present. You two only just joined, but don't forget rule number one."

"What's the point of learning so much more, if we aren't supposed to show anyone?" Anne asked disdainfully.

"Because the stuff we're learning isn't party tricks," Isobel said with a serious air of superiority. "These are real skills to do real things. But hey, it's your choice. If you want to play with bubbles that much, go ahead. Myst and I will be getting smoothies and scale weights." They had reached Peaches. Isobel held the door for Anne, raising her eyebrows as she passed.

"Whatever," Anne muttered.

"Hey, do primes still get to build pillow forts?" Myst asked as she followed them inside.

"I think I'm having a stroke."

"Katie, you're fine," Drew said soothingly, squeezing her shoulders.

"No, I'm not, I can't feel the left side of my face!" Katie squeaked, starting to hyperventilate.

They were backstage at the IPS campus auditorium with all of Katie's inventions unpacked and loaded on wheeled carts. Their parents had already left to find seats, but Drew had stayed behind to try and keep Katie from spiraling into a full-on nervous breakdown. By now he would consider it a win if he could just keep her from passing out.

"Katie? Katie." Drew cupped her face in his hands. "Listen, take a deep breath…" He breathed in, and she mimicked him, sucking in a large lungful of air and holding it, her eyes still wide and panicked. "…Now, stop being such a spaz."

Katie released the breath in a huff. "Drew!!" she cried. "That's not funny, this is serious! You realize there's a guy out there right now making a full-scale model of the Lincoln Memorial out of _bubbles_?"

Drew scoffed. "So? That's like the fifth telekinetic to do something with bubbles."

"So, it looks _cool_!" Katie whimpered. "And I'm going to look like an _idiot_!"

"Katie, calm down," Drew said. "Look at me." He took her shoulders gently, speaking quietly in an attempt to calm her down. "Tell me what your battery goo does."

"It stores and retains psychic energy," she said dismissively, not meeting his eyes, her face still screwed up in dread. "You know that."

"And why does it have to prick your finger?" he asked.

"Because the open wound gives the conducting pad direct access to your inherent psychic energy rather than the residual given off by your aura." She finally met his eyes, starting to look more annoyed than freaked. "I've already told you all this, why are you asking me now?"

"Because you weren't hysterical when you told me last time," Drew said plainly. "Are you still freaking out?"

"Yes!!"

"Good," Drew said, his eyes crinkling with amusement when she almost choked.

"Good??" She stared at him incredulously. "How is this good?"

"Because even unhinged, you were able to tell me exactly what your invention did and how it worked," he answered her. Katie froze, blinking in shock as she realized he was right. "And these things may not look as pretty as a bubble statue of Abraham Lincoln, but they're way more impressive."

"Miss Johnson?" Even though Drew had calmed her considerably with just that small realization, Katie couldn't help but flinch at the sound of her name. Because of _course_ it was Miss Hammond managing the pageant this year. She was sneering at Katie and her inventions, but Drew kept her from turning so she couldn't see. "You're on next, so hurry it up," Hammond informed her stiffly. The kinetic on the stage was bowing, his bubble Lincoln popping into a puddle of soapy water as they spoke.

Drew gave her a quick hug. "You're going to do fine," he murmured into her ear, ignoring Hammond as she started to tap her foot. "I'll be here to help you with anything, okay?" Katie took another deep breath, and nodded. Drew grinned. "Ok, then. Let's go."

Katie's fight or flight instinct veered heavily toward 'flight', so when she stepped out onto the stage and the people in the audience came into view, every fiber of her being started screaming at her to bolt. She managed to stifle it for a few reasons. Partly because of how much effort Drew had put in to getting her here. Partly because she was already on the stage, and she would look even dumber if she ran out now - particularly since she could see Isobel among the audience, smirking at her vindictively. But mostly it was Adrian and Joanne's big-ass, ridiculous, stupid-huge sign. 

They were sitting in the second row, the sign taking up the three seats between them, which screamed in bold, neon colors: KATIE JOHNSON AS OUR NEXT EVIL OVERLORD!!! (It's only a matter of time.)

"Hi, everyone. I'm Katie." She waved awkwardly, swallowed thickly, and continued. "I'm not a kinetic, so I can't really present any of that cool stuff with marshmallows and bubbles," she said, laughing nervously. "In-Instead, I'm going to show you some things I built over the last few months."

She turned slightly, gesturing toward Drew, who was already wheeling her newest invention out onto the stage, dragging an extension cord behind him. He grinned and bowed, before retreating back off the stage. "Um, so, for this first one, I-I actually need a volunteer. One experienced with telekinesis," Katie said. From the corner of her eye she could see Isobel moving, but like hell she was going to let that psycho anywhere near another one of her inventions. Instead, she took a breath, steeling herself for the most terrifying thing she'd ever done. "Mister Everette?" She turned to look at the man sitting beside Dean Yoshida, the same one she had met months ago. He seemed surprised to be addressed. "Sir, I think we can all agree you're the most experienced telekinetic in the room," Katie said politely, mildly shocked at how even she was managing to keep her voice. "Would you mind helping me with this?"

Mister Everette seemed both confused and amused, but he shrugged and stood. A bunch of people in the audience clapped and cheered, and Katie turned back to her invention to plug it in and turn it on as he made his way onto the stage. "Um, okay," she said when he reached her. "I just, um, need something you can manipulate." She looked around blankly, turning bright red as she realized she'd forgotten to bring any kind of prop with her.

"Well, I have my cell here," he offered, pulling it from his pocket. "Will that work?"

"Yes!" Katie said relaxing just a bit. "And-uh, I don't want anyone thinking this is some kind of magic trick or anything, would you mind, just," she held out her hands, struggling with the words. "Uh, do something to it? Something telekinetic, I mean?" she added quickly, her blush flaring back up.

He smiled kindly. "No problem," he said. And with absolutely no ceremony whatsoever, the cell leapt out of his hand and started bouncing back and forth in midair, twirling as it went.

Katie laughed, her tension somehow making the silly display even more amusing. "Ok, I think that's good," she said, holding out her hands. The cell dropped into them easily, and she backed up to circle her invention. She lifted the top panel of the cube, and set the cell carefully inside of it, closing and securing the panel after it. She took a step back and cleared her throat. "Ok, sir, could you try and move it again?"

Mister Everette gave her a tiny nod and looked from her back to the cell. A second later his smile vanished and he started to frown. "What-" he muttered

Katie bit her lip anxiously. "Are you able to move it, sir?"

His eyebrows started to furrow in frustration. "No. I don't understand-"

But Katie was already doubling over in relief. "Oh, thank goodness!" She straightened, fanning her face. "This is the first chance I've had to test it."

Mister Everette smiled at her reaction, but was still focused on the box. "But what's it doing?" he asked. "I can't seem to affect my cell, or the cube it's in. The base," His eyes continued downward, and the entire thing suddenly lifted a few inches off the ground.

"Oh, no, please don't do that!" Katie said quickly, placing her hands on the base to try and keep it from moving. Several people in the audience laughed. "Don't worry, your cell is fine. Here, I'll show you." Once the box was settled back on the floor, she unsnapped something on the base and lifted one of the metal panels away. Inside was a large copper-colored pillar, surrounded with a mess of wires and other doo-dads. "See, the cube is connected to this electromagnet, which is generating a magnetic field that I've gotten to resonate at a very specific frequency." She was speaking easily now, the audience all but forgotten. "You see, sir, studies have found that psychic influence is affected by distance, but not by physical barriers. Which means if your range is eight feet, you'll be able to levitate an object eight feet away, even if there's a brick wall in the way."

Mister Everette was nodding along silently, watching her intently as she explained, using her hands as she talked. "Well, I figured that sort of thing could cause all kinds of problems. Not just scientifically, where someone's experiment might be contaminated by actions in an adjacent room, but also in terms of security. And so what I did here was calculate the resonate frequency of psychic energy, and then I built a machine that generates a field that completely blocks it."

For a breath everyone was completely silent, and then out of nowhere Joanne called, "Now again, in English!" 

Katie jumped and then laughed, her cheeks flushing once more. "Um," She lifted her shoulders. "I built a cage that blocks all forms of kinesis, no matter how powerful the user." She held her hands out to Mister Everette, who was staring between her and the invention in total awe. "Scientists can do experiments without worrying that a pyrokinetic walking by will accidentally blow it up, and average people can lock their door without worrying that a telekinetic will pick the lock."

The audience, particularly those that were faculty, started to murmur amongst themselves. Katie looked around. Her parents were beaming at her, Drew's mother looked impressed, and even his dad seemed appraising rather than disdainful of her. A few rows back, Isobel was no longer smirking. Her eyes were narrowed and she glared daggers at her, her jaw clenched. Katie turned the other way to find Drew grinning, smug and not in the least bit surprised. 

"You know," Walter said as he glanced over her other, unnamed inventions, "We have an internship program here at IPS?"

Katie blinked, her glee turning instantly to shock. "No...?"She squeaked. Of course she knew. She'd had dreams of those white coats.

Walter chuckled. "Of course you didn't. Come on, let the Kinetics have their fun, you can show me what the rest of these do."

"Looks like the Underground won't be able to do 'whatever they want' anymore," Anne remarked dryly. Katie had left with the Dean and Walter Everette, and an elekinetic was onstage now doing some sort of snake-charming act with a lit torch. Myst was watching him intently, unimpressed but giggling quietly.

"How do you mean?" Isobel asked. But her eyes flashed dangerously. She knew exactly what Anne was talking about.

Anne shrugged, looking away. "I just mean that they were all saying they could do what they want, because it's not like anyone could stop them, right? Except now someone can."

Isobel laughed humorlessly. "You honestly think one geeky little general-class retard can stop anyone in the _Underground_?" she sneered.

"Well, that little box thing stopped Walter Everette," Anne reasoned defensively. "His telekinesis is so finely tuned he can literally split a hair with it."

Isobel rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and if she hadn't stopped him, he'd have just knocked over the whole thing and gotten into the stupid little cube easily enough once it was trashed."

"You think she won't figure out a fix for that?" Anne raised an eyebrow at Isobel, but her friend was busy glaring a hole in the curtain that led backstage. "Isobel, should we tell Craig about this?"

That got her attention. "What?" she snapped. "Of course not. Why would we bother him with some nerd's junky science project?"

It was Myst who spoke up. "Well, her junky science project can serve as a tool against psychic criminal activities such as theft or assault," she reasoned simply without taking her eyes off the lit torch waving back and forth from the stage. Myst had a habit of assuming any question needed a real answer.

It didn't bother Anne this time though, she'd helped make her case. "Exactly, and don't you think something like that might interfere with the psychic mafia's plans?" she asked, not bothering to keep her voice down.

Isobel visibly paled and cast a furtive glance around, but her expression remained irritated. "I told you before," she began in a harsh whisper. "They're not the psychic _mafia_ or _mob_ or whatever, okay? They're just, like...a very intense club."

"Is that not how one would describe the Mafia?" Anne asked drily.

Isobel continued as if she hadn't heard her. "And I'm not going to bother Craig with this because I'm going to take care of it myself," she ended in a hard growl.

"You?" Anne had the good sense not to snort. "You're going to 'Take care of it'?"

"Some bookworming poindexter isn't going to stop me from doing what I want," Isobel snapped. 

Anne's eyes widened defensively. "Fine," she agreed. "Whatever."

Anne dropped it, but Isobel continued to glare off into space, grinding her teeth furiously. Katie Johnson was just a scrawny little nerd with her nose glued to a book and one foot in a social grave. She and those self-satisfied IPS hypocrites thought they'd found a way to pen _her_ in? Well, just wait.

_ Just. Wait. _


End file.
